


Human

by Max72



Series: Cold, worn and maybe a little panic stricken [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Clint Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phil Needs a Hug, Spoilers for Agents of Shield latest episodes, Spoilers for Captain America:TWS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-01-16 12:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1347124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Max72/pseuds/Max72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Third in the series Cold, worn and a little panic stricken. </p><p>The Avengers had betrayed Phil and Clint, Nick Fury is still hiding the truth, Natasha makes her appearance and can their newly rekindled relationship survive both of their issues!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I can hold my breath, I can bite my tongue.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the third part, titles are taken from the song Human by Christina Perry.
> 
> I'm easing you into this part of the series but if you have got this far you'll know the angst isn't far away! 
> 
> Many thanks to my beta Veriscence, she had a load to do here because my excitement got the better of me and I sent it a bit early in the checking stakes!

He was going to kill him, well maybe not, in reality, Clint really didn't want to push the third time lucky rule. Phil had been dead once, nearly dead again after the Hulk incident. Knowing his luck if he killed him this time it might actually stick this time and Clint would kind of miss him, plus he was already in Fury's bad books and the paperwork would be a killer especially without Phil to actually fill it in for him (in exchange for a few sexual favours of course). He would not be responsible, he told himself if Phil complained about being bored and wanting to go back to work one more time though. 

Too be fair neither of them were great at the forced time off and this might just be the first time they had spent weeks together without work. It was obviously something to bear in mind if they ever got to retire, first thing on the agenda would be to find Phil a hobby! He, of course, would still be stringing up his bow, until his dying day, even if the arrow didn't go much further than a dart board he would carry on till they wheeled him out! Clint would have to be careful about making sure to steer his boyfriend into the right hobbies, otherwise he feared a life of running around in costumes at sci-fi conventions. As much as the idea of Phil dressing up as Wonder Woman bizarrely appealed to him (only in the privacy of their own bedroom), being tugged along by Phil from one stall to the next looking in minute (he could even imagine him with one of those spooky eye things that jewellers screw in their eye to see hallmarks) at the condition of Captain America trading cards for hours on end, would be one step too far. No he would have to get him involved with something useful, like cooking, seeing as neither of them were anywhere near decent, and these last few weeks had certainly proved that! Maybe a dog to walk and feed and groom, though it might take more than one, Clint smiled to himself. 

“Clint!” The words bellowed at him making him wince and count to ten and bellow back into the other room, “Yes!”

“Can you undo this bottle for me, hun.” God damn it, Clint thought as he whipped up from his chair quickly and raced to the kitchen, it really didn't seem fair that Coulson could simply add the word 'hun' to his sentence and Clint was immediately a doodling mess and running after him like a puppy himself, it was irritating to the extreme that Clint loved the geek quite so much! 

Phil was innocently standing hopelessly fiddling with the bottle of water in his hands. He looked up at Clint as he walked in, looking at him irritably, “I need this damn sling off, I can't do anything with it on.”

“Uhuh,” Clint held out his hand, it wasn't as if he hadn't heard the very same thing over and over again for the last few days, no, for the last few bloody weeks he corrected himself.

Phil had been lucky, well the doctors all agreed he had been very fortunate, if a broken collarbone and fractured shoulder blade was classed as luck he wasn't keen on the idea of unlucky. But a hit that hard close to his heart, a heart that had already in medical opinion been ripped in two, and not in the emotional way, could have easily killed him. It had laid Phil up for exactly one day before he wanted to get up and start working again, the doctors had signed him off for four weeks, those four weeks had already be negotiated down from seven and they wouldn't budge any further even under the patent Agent Coulson stare. 

Clint had of course offered his humble abode for Phil once he had managed to bust himself out of medical. The older man had been grateful, he really had nowhere else to go but the Bus, although the Bus would have given Phil the opportunity for a bit of sneaky paperwork.

They were three weeks into that period now and for all Clint's mumbling and cursing under his breath at the man he would be back to work within the week and the idea of not having him in his dingy flat was starting to worry his every moment. 

There was a sharp rap at the door that could only be one person's knuckles, Melinda May. He opened the door and was bypassed by the whole of Coulson's team, with variety of greetings 'Clint' (May, of course) 'Barton' (Ward, sour bastard) to 'Morning Agent Barton' (the kooky twins) and Skye's 'Yo, guns looking hot this morning, muscle man, I so can see what the boss is thinking' as she poked a finger into his arm. She was an acquired taste that was for sure but Clint was definitely warming up to her, and Phil absolutely adored her, he was not going to pander to May's remark that she reminded her of Clint when he first got pulled in. But she was good for Phil; he was surrounded by serious people a whole lot, it's what his job demanded of course but with The Addam's family set up he had something that worked, and yes, Clint may have mentioned that analogy to Phil. Possible remarked that he always felt that Gomez was Bi, and Morticia was deadly, and the kooky twins made a fine, Pugsley and Wednesday. He wasn't quite sure where Skye fitted in, but he was in no doubt about Lurch. Phil had smiled sadly and wistfully and said that he and Fury had shared a cigar or two after a few missions. Clint hated that look of despondence that floated across his face at the mention of Fury. He had been thankful when Phil had quickly pulled himself together and smiled brightly as he'd said that he had always rather fancied a silk smoking jacket, Clint had no doubt that he wasn't joking. Next thing they knew Phil would be sporting a tash and wanting Clint to dress up like Anjelica Huston and although he looked mighty fine in black he really didn't have the height for that dress, plus painted nails really didn't work with a bow!

They made themselves comfortable surrounding Coulson, it was good to see but if Clint were to be honest it made him feel a little alone, a reminder that Phil would be off again soon. He disappeared into the kitchen to put coffee on for everybody. Away from the cheerful chatter of Phil's team, not the Avengers any more, not that Clint was exactly pro Avengers right now, which intensified the feeling of isolation. There had been some relief of course that they hadn't known about Phil actually being dead for the five days but they had still been heavily involved, he still found it unbelievable that they had stood by and watched Phil go through that alone and all the lies that had followed. He was a little pissed by the fact they had been completely silent, conspicuously absent since the blow up at Stark Tower as well. He was well aware that Phil felt disappointed that they hadn't made contact, Clint was sure Phil was a little nervous now that they thought less of him or God forbid they thought he might be some kind of unknown risk or threat. 

Hell, Clint desperately wanted Nat here! They hadn't heard from her since this had all kicked off and as both of them were away from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s computers and communication networks right now, he had no idea where she was or what she was doing. Well, he had a fair idea of what she would likely be doing! She was the only one apart from the man at the centre of attention in the other room that could ground him and the idea of being here on his own without either was terrifying. He had been going religiously to his therapy sessions, maybe with a push and daily reminder from Phil. He had even talked to them, Phil had been invited to one or two and had sat in wonder at how open Clint had been, he was trying he really was. The therapist had banded things around like PTSD and separation anxiety, Clint had argued that one, they had the cheek to suggest that, and he quoted, 'an extreme worry that a major event will cause a separation from the attachment figure' was actually a unrealistic fear!!! Well HELLO, had they not heard of the Battle for New York? These were S.H.I.E.L.D therapist and they were spouting that crap! They had looked a little embarrassed when called up on it, and Clint had told them in no uncertain terms to put the damn text books away and talk to him! Phil had looked all wide eyed and as impressed as hell at his boyfriend, and that look had gone a long way to make him feel calmer than he had in years. He was going to need that calm as the days started to count down before he left again. He wasn't sure what was being reported back about his mental health but he had been given a return to duty notice starting at the same time that Phil would go back, he speculated it would involve a debriefing with Hill at least and possibly one with Fury, after he had witnessed his little flare up. Phil had thought it unlikely, as Fury had gone silent again on both of them. Clint was finding it frustrating as hell that Fury wouldn't talk to Phil; if he was still angry at the Avengers it had nothing on the big boss man. Coulson and Fury went back a long way and he knew that it had wounded his lover deeply that Fury was so obviously embroiled in the secret of his resurrection and hadn't been straight with him. 

Clint wasn't surprisingly too worried about his own return to work, they could stick him with whatever label they desired, he was pretty sure that none of them affected his aim and he was more or less sure that was all S.H.I.E.L.D really cared about in the end. 

The coffee was made and he packed it all onto a tray and headed back to the main room, where Fitz and Simmons were regaling some tale with uncontrollable giggles between them. Skye looked wondrously on, believing every syllable. Grant spent most of his time either watching Coulson or May. Clint narrowed his eyes as he watched Lurch a little more carefully, there was something a little worrying about the way he looked between his superiors. Clint had found it quite hilarious when Phil had told him that May and Ward were doing the dirty. He had asked seriously what the hell May was doing with him and Phil had quickly retorted that he thought it was because she could throw him round the bedroom without repercussions, which Barton, had of course laughed his head off at. 

Now Clint could see the little jealous spark in his eye. He could even understand why it was there, if he hadn't been in and around the pair of them for years and was absolutely secure in his relationship with Phil their interaction could well be misinterpreted. Coulson and May were a bit of an enigma, Phil, would pour his affection out to her and she would ignore him most of the time, until she felt he really needed something back and then she could be the biggest mother hen out there! Those moments were made all the more stark by the fact that she did it for nobody else. You would be lucky if she handed you a Band-Aid if you were bleeding all over the carpet most of the time. She would beat the crap out of somebody who hurt you sure, but actual conversation, nah, that wasn't happening unless your name was Coulson. He had been grateful to her for it. Phil was essentially a very shy person, someone who would rather blend than stand at the front. It often meant that he got taken for granted and his needs came well down the line. May's presence meant he always had someone looking out for him. He needed it too, Clint had been somewhat concerned when May had told him that she had essentially gone back into the field because she couldn't stand by and watch Phil throwing himself into a more physically front line job than he had for a long time. As a handler he had of course been right out there fighting evil where ever he needed to be but that tended to involve a large team, well, it had when you got to the kind of high management level Phil had been. He was a fixer, more than a fighter before New York. He would never run from a fight though, never, but May had insinuated that he was more independent, not using his team as much as he would have in the past. Clint hoped it was more a matter of getting used to and trusting his new team than a blatant lack of self caution.

He shot Grant a writhing look and had the man flinching under the scrutiny, Phil would call it his Alpha male, 'that's my boyfriend you are looking at' look. He was rather mortified when he looked back round to find both May and Coulson staring at him and then glancing across to Ward. Melinda looked mildly cross but hell she always looked like that and Phil... Phil was actually smirking at him, and then had the gall to cock his eyebrows up in question. Clint just smiled and looked back amused. The Kooky twin just carried on squeaking out tall tales as Skye absorbed every word obvious to the silent conversation going on around them by the grownups.

They stayed actually long enough for Clint to feel happy to have Phil all to himself once again, even when he complained about how difficult it was to even do your pants up one handed, Clint had smiled evilly, not needing to count to ten and told him not to bother trying on his account. That had ended in as much as a rumpus as they could manage with Phil strapped up to high heaven, but they had both ended up more than satisfied. 

Clint jumped up from the bed and flew round the room listening to his phone ringing to find out where he had thrown his pants in all the excitement. He frantically hunted through the pockets to find his device before the ringtone stopped. 

“Barton,” he answered as he grabbed it, answering so quickly as to not notice the caller. 

“Oh thank god, did you forget to tell the Black Widow that we weren't responsible for what happened to Coulson!”

“Stark what the fuck...” 

“Just tell her for god's sake!”

“Why?” 

“What!” Stark squeaks, “Because she has me up against the fucking wall with her hand round my throat!” 

“And?”

“Fuck you Barton, what happened to Agent, was not our fault.”

“Hmm.”

“Okay, okay, it wasn't entirely our fault,” he does sound a little panicky, Clint thought happily. 

“Put her on.”

“Speaker phone, speaker phone! Just tell her!”

“Tasha, you're back?”

“This morning.”

“Cool.”

“Barton, come on, I can't stand on my tiptoes for much longer!” Stark shouted.

Phil was trying to rather ungainly heft himself off the bed and pull up his boxers. Clint couldn't help but smile and go over to the bed and help pull him up, “You want to speak to Nat?” He said holding out the phone. 

Phil gulped, but took the phone, “Natasha?”

There was a long pause and Phil looks down disappointedly, his hand clutching the phone hard. 

He looked up suddenly eyes wide, as a soft voice breathes down the phone, “Coulson?”

“I... it's good to hear your voice... I wish I could have...” His voice caught and even Clint looked away. 

“Hey! I'm still dangling here. Touching as this all is!” Stark's voice barked. Clint winced as he heard the voice even from the few meters he was standing away from the phone.

“Stark!” Phil sent Clint an annoying look, obviously not happy at having Stark listening to his conversation.

Clint made a hand over motion for the phone, taking it from Phil's reluctant hand.

“Nat?”

“Barton.”

“He is unfortunately telling the truth in that they aren't entirely responsible, you should probably hear the whole story before deciding whether to slit his throat or not.”

“Nice!” Stark muttered disgustedly.

“I think Phil would like to see you before he heads out as well.”

Phil looked hopefully over at Clint.

“Okay.” she said blandly and Clint can hear the sound of a body scrambling to stay upright and her sharp stilettos walking away.

“You're one in a million, Barton,” Stark said a little bitterly.

“And you're an asshole, Stark!” He replied as he turned to walk over to where he had left his shirt.

“I can tell that your therapy sessions have had about as much success and as they did for me.” Stark said wittily and Clint couldn't help but smile. 

“I think you owe us a visit Tony!”

“Hmm, yes you're right, just let me know when the coast is clear of the Madam Pain and I might drop by.”

“Coward!”

“Oh and tell Phil, he really is a sap at heart.”

“Fuck you.”

“You should be so lucky!” Stark batted back and before Clint could reply, the line goes dead.

“Bastard.”

Clint couldn't help but feel bad for wasting time snarking at Stark when he turned back around to see Phil waiting nervously, his face openly questioning.

“Is she coming?” He asked hesitantly.

It had never been more evident to Clint looking at Phil now, what a huge toll this had put on the previously ultra confident man, he was a long way from the Phil Coulson of old, but he loved this one just as much. “Of course she is,” he replied and stepped in to wrap his arms around the still fragile man.


	2. I can stay awake for days.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha comes to visit and it doesn't go smoothly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ANGST starts again, sorry about that (insert evil chuckle). Suppose I should maybe put a little warning in here, mention of possible self harm.

Clint walked back to the door; he had changed the sheets on the bed, his arms now full of the dirty ones heading for the washing machine. He sneaked a look into the main room. Phil had his back to him, sitting on the couch, he could just about make out his knee pumping up and down on his toes, he was as close to hyper-ventilating as Clint could remember in a long while, as his foot beat out an irritating rhythm. It had been over three hours now since Stark had called and Clint was starting to think it was looking painfully like she was going to be a no show. And he had been sure she would come straight here, but now with each passing minute he saw his lovers' heart break a little more and he cursed the woman, that had the only bit of him that didn't already belong to the tense man on the couch. 

Tasha had been away when it had been first disclosed that Phil was alive, disclosed only Clint might add because of a god-damn administration error in Fury's office when he had been sent in to rescue Phil and his team. He had told Tasha as soon as he had returned with the first of the many burner phones they had used up on news of Phil in the last few months. She had taken the news with her usual stoic grace but had refused to speak to him long distance, as if he wouldn't actually be real unless she could see him in the flesh. By the time she had returned to home shores Phil had been gone himself, back to the team on the Bus, to places unknown. She had insisted about being kept in the loop and whenever she was away Clint still informed her of any building situations and there had been plenty of them, he had whispered his fears for Phil, especially after his kidnapping and the state he came back to them in, all into secure mobiles wherever she was in the world. 

The last contact they had managed was on the morning after he had dragged a physically and emotionally exhausted Coulson back to his apartment three weeks ago now, after Phil had thrown his medical file at the feet of Tony Stark. Clint had been distraught thinking that the Avengers had all lied to him and his partner about their involvement, and they had of course, he wasn't going to sugar coat their role, they might not have brought him back from the dead but for Clint they still had things to answer to. He had embarrassingly nearly cried into the phone as he recounted the sordid details to a quietly furious Black Widow. But then they had gone to the tower to have it out with them and the Hulk had knocked Phil into tomorrow and Clint himself had hit the crazy zone! Since then they had been unable to contact her with no access to S.H.I.E.L.D. Today's call had come out of the blue.

AND he had honestly thought she would come straight here. He had never thought to ask her before she handed the phone back to Stark. It was no use trying to placate Phil with excuses, perhaps she had to debrief, change, have a bath, or do some fucking shopping! None of it would ring true and would leave Coulson looking more let down than ever. He was painfully reminded of something May had said to him when he had first visited the Bus with Stark, 'he's done with being the bad man here, don't bring any more of his so called friends back if they don't understand and except that, he can't take any more' and here they were waiting for the one person that could probably hurt him nearly as much as Clint if he was rejected. He could see more than ever what May had seen all those months ago, that Phil was fragile and needy in ways he never had been before.

Tasha probably thought she had every right to chastise Coulson, and God knows he couldn't complain because he had done exactly that but now he could see what strain it put upon the man. He could see the head bow and the muscles that grew more tense for every minute that he waited and he hated his best friend just a little bit right now for causing it.

Phil stood suddenly, “I should...” he looked round, but he had nothing, but Clint could see that he couldn't sit there any longer. It's something he had noticed about Phil, the stillness was gone. Before, he could have sat for hours, there was a pool at Head Quarters that he could out sit any asset on a mission including Barton himself. He wasn't content to do that anymore, oh, he could do it if necessary but it wasn't something inbuilt like it had been before, he had a need to move. 

Barton watched as he walked into the kitchen, and sighed, as Phil looked around for something to do and grabbed a cloth to industriously wipe down the immaculately clean worktop. He moved round the few gadgets that sat useless on the surface, the only one that got any use being the coffee machine and the poor thing made up for all the under use of the others by being more or less permanently on when they were in. They of course didn't have a speck of dust on them even before the Coulson treatment. 

Clint looked on for a few minutes before he moved in to stand next to him, face on, bum rested on the edge of the worktop edge drawing a scowl out of the dish cloth welding man. “It's all clean, Phil.”

“I know,” Coulson sighed annoyed at the fact. He didn't stop until Clint reached out and stopped the hand mid flow. He pushed Phil back slightly and squeezed his body through the gap until they were standing face to face, body to body. He ran his fingers over Phil's knuckles. 

“She'll come,” Clint said with far more confidence than he felt.

“Why?” Phil shook his head, and looked up from where he had been watching Clint's fingers soothing patterns across the skin of his hand. “We all know I’m far from the innocent party here. It It would seem that only you and Natasha are, and every crime deserves a punishment.”

Clint looked up a little pale as he hoarsely said, “Don't say that.”

Phil could kick himself, neither of their pasts were guilt free even with a S.H.I.E.L.D get out of jail card, they had both sailed pretty close to the wind, missions that left an unpleasant taste in the mouth and Clint had had his shadowy life before he was even given a license to ignore his moral compass under the badge of an official government logo.

“Sorry,” he said, looking into Clint's troubled eyes.

Clint raised his hands and framed them around Phil's head, “She will come.”

“She shouldn't, she is better off out of all this, she has every right to hostility. What I did was stupid and ill-advised,” Phil said sadly.

Barton made a small growl type noise, “Ill-advised, shit Phil, you trusted a friend, your boss, call that imprudent maybe but you are a victim here as well, stop blaming yourself for things you had little control of.”

“No, I can't stop... the deception was mine, maybe not mine alone but I agreed to the plan.”

“Yes you did!”

Both men spun round at the sharp voice.

“Tasha,” “Natasha,” they both said at the same time, one with joy and the other in a guarded greeting.

There was a gut wrenching pause, Clint wondered if Phil was still breathing, as they stared each other out. Natasha was almost impossible to read, it was what made her such an exceptional spy, one of the best, better than Phil and that was saying something and far, far better than Clint he would happily agree, he was much better at taking the shot. 

Phil bravely took a step forward, his voice almost reverent as he breathed out, “Natasha,” once again. He stopped in front of her waiting for her to make the first move and it was Clint turn to wonder if he himself was still breathing or holding his breath straining his lungs with tension. He waited to see if Phil would be graced with a greeting or kicked with aggravation, he thought the latter more likely if the dark menacing look in her eyes was anything to go by, but she surprised him. Natasha stepped forward into Phil's space and Clint saw him brace himself, but she brought her hands up and pulled him into a slightly stilted hug. She looked uncomfortable and stiff but she held on. Phil gave out a startled sound and returned the hug in a desperate squeeze, she instantly tensed a little more, and Barton watched as her eyes met his, she sighed, and her muscles slackened into the man. Clint couldn't help thinking this was a red letter day of surprises for him where Natasha was concerned, as she brought up her hand and caressed the short hairs at the base of Phil's hair. He saw Phil squeeze even tighter and his head fell into the space her elegant neckline left, resting his nose on her warm fragrant skin. The archer found himself looking down suddenly fascinated with the patterns on the floor tiles, because he knew that Tasha wouldn't appreciate anyone seeing the vulnerable look that she surprisingly couldn't hide from her face. She countered the touch and feelings as she said somewhat harshly, “I should really hurt you, Coulson.” 

“I know,” he mumbled into her neck, his voice thick with emotion. His next words had Clint's head shoot up, a deep foreboding, a sudden insight, an awakening, as pieces of a puzzle he wasn't aware he had been trying to complete fall into place, thing's that had been said, things he himself had watched happen, snap and flow through his brain and he can't believe he didn't see it before and yet still he hopes he was mistaken because he is supposed to be the fucked up one, not Phil. But the words suggested... as Phil said quietly his voice still muffled and unguarded for a change, into Tasha's neck. “You can, I deserve it.”

Clint could see as she tensed up at the words as well, her eyes shot up and met Clint's widening ones, he stepped forward and grabbed Coulson's shoulder pulling him away from the comfort of the woman in front of him none too gently as he gave a startle whimper.

“What did you say?” He couldn't help the anger that bubbled around the words, wouldn't feel bad for the lost look on Phil's face as he winced at Clint's tone.

“I...” Phil stammered, and Agent Coulson never stammered.

“Is that what this is all about,” Clint indicated the heavy strapping covering his shoulder, “You wanted to be punished.”

“What! No, of course not, I...” his voice faltered.

Clint's voice was bitter and filled in for Phil's lack of words. “You stepped in front of the Hulk, you tried to pick a fight with Fury,” and that had Natasha's eyebrows asking the question, he had obviously forgotten to tell her about the café and the Director's meeting. “Is that it?” He looked across at Phil who is shaking his head in denial, “Is that why you walked out on that bridge with Mike Peterson, when May told you not to?”

“They wanted me, Clint, even if I hadn't gone out it probably would have ended the same and it would most like have ended in a fire fight and put my team at risk.”

“That's their job, Coulson,” Natasha interrupted unimpressed.

“May told me you were pushing yourself, but I thought I knew you, trusted you to be doing the best for yourself as well as your team. I never imagined you were putting yourself into danger on purpose.”

“No!”

“You ignored the warnings to get out of that fire station, just to sit down and have a chat with a man who was about to explode. You insist on going down after Dr Hall and once again it ends with you in the firing line, what else is there?”

“Seems to me that May needs a re-education in giving out classified information,” Coulson said sarcastically, right before he was slammed back into the refrigerator, wincing as his shoulder hits hard, one of Clint's hands coming up in a bruising grip on his chin, even as the other hand seemed to work without his angry permission and ran gently over Phil's injured shoulder in apology, an enraged look on his face, mixing his messages spectacularly, “What else have you been doing as some form of self-flagellation?”

“No, that's... I had to test my limits!”

“Test your limits!” Clint snarled with huge scepticism. “Look at yourself, seems your limits are pretty obvious, broken bones and bruises.”

“I needed to see what I was capable of after... I felt different...”

“Fuck, Phil,” Clint's grip lightened on the now reddening chin, “You hurt like anybody else, you die like any...” And that's when Clint's blood froze, it's when he saw a flicker go through the blue eyes and a shift in his face and it's the moment that he realised just how messed up Phil really might be, cause does he seriously doubt he could die!

“NO, no, no,” Clint slammed his hands either side of Coulson's head hitting the metal door with a loud bang, forcing the material to buckle temporarily with the impact before he was pulling back again, his hands shook with the agitation that was pumping through his body. 

Phil's eyes were wild. He stood perfectly still, as Clint finally finished with, “You think your fucking immortal.”

“No, I... not now, not...” He was obviously frustrated by his lack of ability to string a sentence together, but this was so important to him and Clint looked on furiously. Phil looked worried that he had pushed his partner too far this time and he might have been right.

“Please, I don't think that, Clint,” Phil swayed forward so he wasn't leaning into the door anymore, “ I maybe I was pushing myself, but I know where I am now, it won't happen...” But he could see the younger man backing off. 

Clint couldn't... he couldn't stay here and talk to him, he turned to Tasha, and said overwrought, “You talk to him, cause I can't even look at him right now!” He walked quickly out of the kitchen, grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch and almost ran to the front door jerking it open before stepping out and slamming it shut behind him. 

So he wasn't there to see Phil hug himself and slide down the fridge door and he wasn't there to see the panic in Tasha's eyes at being caught in the middle of this and not knowing what to do or what the hell was really happening here. So he doesn't know how very tempted she was to walk out after him. This wasn't quite the reunion she had counted on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know I put them through hell! DO comment on how evil I am ;)


	3. Be your number one.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint returns home but to what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta as always!

“He's gone,” was the first thing that hits his ears as Clint wandered into the apartment a few hours, a good few miles on his feet plus a little bit of talking to himself out loud and odd looks because of it later. 

“What?” 

“Packed a bag and left sometime after you accused him of being a suicidal megalomaniac.”

“Fuck! And I did not say that,” he turned a witheringly glare at Tasha as he walked past to drop onto the couch next to her. He watching with an evil smirk as she had to hold her coffee cup away from her body to prevent it from spilling over her as Clint's body sent her and the mug slightly into the air with the force he landed with. 

She looked vaguely waspish but her replied was understanding and gentle, “I know,” she looked him in the eye, “so does he.”

“Then why did he have to run away?” Clint couldn't help the little bitter tone entering his voice.

Tasha turned and gave him a look, “Okay, yeah,” he gave her a cocky grin, “I ran first, but that's my style, not his.”

“He's not... what I expected,” she said frowning.

“What do you mean?”

“It's like he...” She stopped and thought about what she was saying, “He keeps coming across as a man that he doesn't much like and certainly doesn't understand and when he looks to see who it is it's his face that stares back at him each time.”

“Oh man, that's a bit deep, been taking classes again,” Clint sniggered.

“Dick!” She batted back.

Clint sighed heavily, “Ah shit, Tasha, have I fucked it all up again?”

“No,” she replied with an exasperated sigh as Clint flopped his head down on her shoulder. “You're both fighting to keep your heads above the water right now, sometimes that results in you fighting with each other, it happens, don't over think it.”

“Will he forgive me?”

“He's not pissed with you Clint, if anything I think he feels guilty because I think you got it right, and he's scared by that.”

“Me to, Tash, me too.”

She turned and pressed a gently kiss to his forehead. 

Clint said sadly, “I've only just got him back and he's playing with his life... It scared me.”

She smiled, “That's because you...” 

She hesitated so Clint finished the sentence for her with a smile of his own, “Love him?”

“Hmm,” was all she gave as an answer.

“Did he go back to the Bus?

“Yes.”

“Is he coming back?” 

“No.”

“Oh,” Clint said despondently.

“He's right, Clint, right now you two are not compatible, you both have things to work through.”

“I can't not see him, Tasha.”

“So go see him, he won't turn you away, just take some space too. He told me about the Hulk incident, so did Stark in graphic detail,” she finished seriously, “you are both overwhelmed right now.”

Clint snorted, “You can say that again.”

“You both need some time, look at things with more perceptive, go say goodbye, let him ship out, he'll be back, he'll always come back,” she said with certainty.

He laughed, “You sound like him now!” 

“He will come back for you Clint, because you are his destiny.” She took a sip from the almost empty cup.

Clint looked up at her and couldn't for the life of him think of another thing to say, so he snuggled even closer to one of the only two people, he felt comfortable enough to do it with. 

 

The first thing he noticed was that the sling was gone, Phil was huddled over his paperwork, fountain pen in hand, back in the mandatory dark suit. 

“I hope you didn't take that off by yourself,” he commented to start the conversation off. He watched as Phil's head bobbed up as if surprised, Clint wasn't fooled of course, he knew Phil, and he was damn sure that 'Agent Coulson' had known he was there the whole time, it was a classic Coulson manoeuvre, it made the enemy think they'd gotten one up on you, it made them relax just a little bit, it was what could make that little bit of difference when the chips were down. 

“I'm not you Barton,” he retorted not giving away any emotion which would give Clint a clue on how he would be received.

“Well no, but I won't hold it against you, not everyone can be this lucky,” he countered with a smirk. He was happy to see it returned, so he continued, looking round the room casually, “So when are you heading out?”

“Tomorrow.”

Clint couldn't help the look of surprise as he said, “that's quick.”

“I have made a quick recovery,” he retorted, rotating his shoulder to prove it.

Clint spoke before his brain caught up (which was a common occurrence) and he instantly wanted the words back, “That's omnipotence for you.”

Phil sighed loudly and Clint really did feel bad, as Coulson looked down at his desk and murmured, “Clint...”

Barton interrupted straight away, “No, look sorry, that was uncalled for, I didn't come here to argue with you.” 

“What did you come for,” Phil asked gently.

“To see you,” Clint said honestly, “I miss you.”

“I only left yesterday,” Phil's mouth lifted in amusement, as his head lifted again to look at his lover.

“Separation Anxiety, remember?” Clint smiled.

Coulson couldn't help but laugh with Clint, remembering a conversation they had shared about the diagnosis making Clint sound like a dog, he chuckled, “Ah yes, just don't go chewing the furniture or urinating on the bed while I’m gone.” 

“I could make a lurid comment about being a good boy and getting a bone when you get home but I’ll avoid it seeing as we are in your place of work.”

Phil snorted and said “Thank you for that.” 

The smiles dropped at the same time as they realised they were both trying just a little too hard to be bright and normal when neither of them clearly were. 

Clint couldn't help the words blurting out, “You're coming back?” It sounded needy even in his own ears. 

Phil looked equally uncertain as he returned, “If you'll have me?” He swallowed on the words as Clint looked away frightened by the gesture. 

Clint looked back as he frustratedly said, “Perhaps we should see a marriage counsellor.”

Phil raised his eyes but his lips lifted, “We aren't actually married.”

“I know, we should probably change that at some stage too.” Clint said matter of fact. 

Coulson's eyebrow nearly managed to reach his receding hair line which really was saying something. “Did you just propose to me?”

“Hell no, I’m just doing a bit of forward planning,” he smirked.

“Okay I’m really in The Twilight Zone now,” Clint looked quizzical, “Clint Barton, marriage proposal and him forward planning, definitely not of this universe!”

“Fuck you,” he laughed, “I'll have you know I’m very forward thinking, I once rented a video and ordered the sequel for the next day at the same time!” 

“Careful Clint, videos, you're showing your age. Just so we are clear I would at least expect dinner, rings and romance.”

Clint snorted, “Okay, Black and white TV man.” His face became serious as he said, “to clear up my side I need proof that you are not deliberately getting yourself hurt, Phil.” 

Coulson looked down at his desk and picked up his pen again, smile wiped from his face, “You know for someone that regularly throws themselves off of office blocks, you have a kind of cheek.”

Clint's hand slammed down on the paperwork but when he spoke it's not with anger but concern. “There is a difference Phil, a big one, you see I trust the people around me from hitting the floor. You are...”

Phil interrupted quickly, “were!”

Clint's face contorted, “were,” he said without much conviction, “doing it to see what would happen.”

“I...” Phil started, but Clint stopped him mid-sentence this time.

“If what is going to come out of your mouth now is a lie, a half truth or a platitude, then you better close it right now.”

Phil shut his mouth at the words, he nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement, and watched as Clint's face relaxed a bit.

“I'm serious Phil, I'm letting you go,” Phil's mouth opened to protest, “I know I couldn't stop you but humour me here,” he said and watched as the older man closed it again, “but you need to prove to me that all that shit is over.” He came round the side of the desk and knelt down in front of the man's legs as he shifted his chair to accommodate Clint. “You scared me Phil, and I hate all this grown up stuff, that's your role in this relationship,” he said jokingly trying to relieve the tension. 

Phil managed a wane smile and tried valiantly to play along, “have I got to sit on the naughty step?”

“Damn straight and I will give May my permission to do just that.”

“Shit, she would too.”

“Too right!”

“I'm going to go now, but I want you to think about this, Phil,” Clint was pleased to get a little nod from the older man. 

“You know, this little team you have built here is pretty impressive,” Clint liked the small proud smile that graced his lovers' lips, “Because you look at them on paper and seriously it shouldn't work but it does, and you are the reason, they are a team for you but...”

“But?” Phil asked.

He wondered if he should say it but they needed to be honest with each other, “You need to be part of that team, you don't let them back you up like they should, frankly Phil, right now you are the only one that isn't a team player. You're reckless, be a leader by standing back sometimes, let them do their job, it's not always necessary for you to be on the front line.”

They said their goodbyes, and Barton left soon after, saying farewell to every member, having a brief chat with May as Phil watched from the gallery in the loading bay, his lips upturned as if he understood the message that the archer was trying to get across by stopping May, 'I'll be listening', Clint hoped that they had come to an understanding but he would have no idea the impact those last words would have in only a few weeks time!

 

It was a warm New York day, Clint was for once relaxing, away from any thoughts of S.H.I.E.L.D. or Stark towers and it's residents, he had spoken little to the Avengers since Phil had left, he didn't really feel comfortable talking with them without his other half. Phil had told him countlessly to go ahead, listen to what they said, go with his heart but Clint didn't really feel ready to hear it. He wasn't trying to make them feel guilty he just wasn't sure how he actually felt. He'd been pleasant with them, turned up for training and meetings, they had been called out a couple of times and things had gone remarkably well, Phil would have been proud! But he didn't socialise with them anymore, he spent his time at his apartment, not always his own, Natasha had camped out with him since her return, also not happy to go back to the fold, but all too soon she had been sent off again and now he had to admit the place felt a bit empty and god forbid, lonely! He missed Phil, they spoke regularly on the phone but it wasn't the same as having him around. Phil had hoped to get away, return for a bit but when the rest of the team had gone to the academy Phil had jetted off with May instead. He was disappointed, but he understood, especially when he had whispered down the secure line his and Melinda's findings about Skye. 

Phil had been quiet over the phone, Clint knew his thoughts weighed him down, staring into the unknown was never pleasant. From what Clint could make out the agent had been thrust into the eye of the storm with his investigations into the clairvoyant. Phil himself seemed to be the focus for Centipede and Clint was well aware it wasn't nice having a target on your back even if they seemed more interested in catching him than killing him. There was no telling when that might change, and the risk to the rest of his team when they came after him was a constant worry.

He was pulled from his thoughts as a waitress slid up to his table and asked if she could get him anything else, not hiding her interest, but hey, Clint really did fancy another cup of coffee and the only reason he followed her with his eyes as she went back in was because she practically skipped with excitement because he had ordered something from her. He smiled, he'd have to tell Phil how he hadn't lost his touch with the other sex. Phil would probably laugh and tell him not to even think about touching! 

Clint's phone started to ring so he pulled it out of his jeans pocket, speak of the devil Clint smiled, and answered happily, “Hey Phil!”

There was a long pause when Clint wondered if they had been cut off but then he heard a strangled sob and he sat up straighter, “Phil!” 

The words when they came were whispered, deep with emotion, “You were right,” it was almost a sob, “It's my fault, I should have been more careful, my fault” He repeated.

Clint stood up from the coffee shop table, coffee forgotten and started to walk somewhere less public and quieter. “Phil, calm down tell me what's happened.” He said looking around for somewhere to go. 

“They shot her, God Clint, they shot her twice,” Phil's voice cracked, and Clint is relieved to find himself a narrow alleyway, and he leans heavily against the brick wall. Almost scared to ask he said, “Who got shot?”

“Skye.” Phil barely breathed out the word and Clint couldn't think of a worse answer for Phil, he loved the girl like a daughter, it got worse though as Phil finished with, “They shot her point blank.” Clint flinched he knew what that likely meant, massive internal damage, he had witnessed more than his fair share. 

“I'm... my fault,” Phil was rambling, muttering to himself. Clint needed to get him focused. 

“Coulson, I want your report on what happened right now.” His tone sounded a little harsh but it was the best way to concentrate Coulson's mind. It worked as Phil started to rattle off a debrief to Barton, starting at the very beginning. His voice was controlled until the end when it started to falter as he told Clint of the devastating injuries. Once again, he started to repeat that it was his fault, how she had looked to him and he had only shown her how to be reckless. Clint closed his eyes at the word, because he remembered using the exact word to Phil and it was coming back to haunt him just as it was tormenting the man on the other end. 

“Where are you?” Barton asked.

“The hospital,” he voice cracked as he tried to talk, “they said...” 

“Tell me Phil,” he said gently.

“They said that there is nothing they can do, she is going to die Clint.”

Clint couldn't help the sharp intake of breath at the words. 

“They... the others, they won't look at me, Clint, they blame me, I know it, I deserved it.” 

Barton gritted his teeth, “No, no Phil,” he didn't believe that, more likely they knew how much she meant to him but didn't know what to say, none of them were the most socially competent, the kooky twins sweet as they were, basically lived on a different planet, May, well Phil had actually laughed down the phone the first laugh he had got from the man in a long time when he had explained about how May had started chatting, yes chatting, to him in order to coax him out a bit, Ward was... it probably wasn't at all fair but Clint hadn't really taken to him, apart from Phil and ironically Skye herself the rest had the conversation skills of a teenagers! If anyone did blame Coulson, they hadbetter be watching their backs for one Clint Barton! 

After deriding the others internally Clint actually could have tutted to himself when he found that he didn't actually know what to say himself to comfort his lover, he wanted to be there with Phil, if he was there he could hold him and let the man cry into his shoulder, rub circles on his skin as he made him rest in his arms, because he was a hands on sort of guy but long distance phone calls weren't so easy. He wanted to make it all better, but he couldn't so he ended up saying, “There is always hope.”

Barton actually started to panic that it's about the worse thing he could have possibly said when Phil doesn't answer. His self esteem was crap when it came to these sorts of... feelings... and he was just about to come up with an apology for being a thoughtless dick when Phil spoke.

The sudden relief was tempered when he listened to what Phil was saying and then he cursed his words not for the thoughtlessness of them but because he seemed to have put into Phil's head an idea that probably had no place to be there!

“You're right,” Phil said, a touch of wonder in his voice, “I survived, that is what we need to do, find the answers... in the folder! The answers must be there!”

Clint's mind can only come up with 'what the fuck' articulate as it was, and he said worriedly, “Phil, I don't think...” but the bastard interrupted him. 

“I have to go, I need to speak to the team, bye Clint.”

“PHIL!” He desperately tried to stop the man ringing off, but the phone went dead, and he cursed to the empty street, gripping the offending phone in his hands to prevent him throwing it across the alley, “FUCKING HELL.” His fingers fumbled with the keys as he tried to ring back but the phone at the other end had been turned off, he could swear at Phil right now for doing that and tried May's number instead only to get the same message before realizing that they were in a hospital and they probably had little choice. 

Which left Clint with no choice either he would have to wait this one out and he didn't like it one little bit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agents of Shield is SO good at the moment, I'm feeling extremely inadequate, therefore my writing has hit a brick wall and I'm really struggling to get the next chapter out.


	4. I can dance and play the part.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after AoS Episode 15 'Yes Men'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my beta Veriscence, who takes all my words and puts them in the right order!

It was days until he heard from Phil again and that was only because Clint gave in and phoned him instead, there was some weird shit going on and Clint needed to try and find out just why it seemed to be revolving around Phil and his team.

He knew Skye had made it, heard through the grapevine i.e. Jasper Sitwell, and that conversation was the one that had led to the one he was holding with Phil right now. 

Sitwell had accosted him the moment he had stepped into the S.H.l.E.L.D building, shouting, "Agent Barton," in an embarrassing manner across the large entrance hall, making Clint cringe and carry on walking. He could see Sitwell making his way over, breaking into a trot as he realised that Barton wasn't stopping. 

Clint couldn't help the smirk that took over his lips as he watched out the corner of his eye, he saw the agent do that little hop skip and jump quick walk thing that reminded Clint so much of Phil, he had seen Coulson do it countless times, and wondered if they taught it as standard, lesson one: how not to run when you're in a hurry. Or in Phil's case how to keep up with long legged people that were walking quickly and your little legs really needed to break out into a jog to keep up! He also wondered where he was for that lesson because he really doesn't do anything as ridiculous as that, he runs (even inside) like a man! A man with thighs of steel, but shit that's not right either, he has had Phil's thighs wrapped round him and they are definitely of the heavy metal variety! 

And aw fuck, he can't believe that he just took a glance down at Sitwell's legs, he seriously needs some quality time with his man, but he is terribly relieved with the realisation that they aren't a patch on Phil's suit clad ones. He was pretty sure that like the majority of S.H.I.E.L.D agents Sitwell's fashion sense was based on a little James Bond and a whole lot of Agent P. J. Coulson, the man's suits are legend! 

It was such a shame when Sitwell managed to catch up with him, he own thoughts were so much more entertaining than dealing with whatever shit Jasper had to say. 

"Barton," the man started a little out of breath, only proving to Clint that he spent to much time shaking hands and behind a desk for his liking, don't get him wrong he liked Sitwell, everyone liked Sitwell, but he ain't no Coulson in the bad ass stakes! "Did you hear me calling?" He sounded mildly pissed, so Clint thought that was a win on his part. 

"No," he lied uninterestedly and just carried on walking, he still wasn't three quarters of the way across the vast hallway. The swift pace; and really Sitwell, his legs are a hell of a lot longer than Clint's and the man still had to bunny hop along to keep up. "Something I can do for you, man." 

"Yes, you need to tell your boyfriend to stop digging!"

Okay that stopped him, Clint turned a witheringly glare at Jasper who only just managed to avoid running into Barton when the asset came to an abrupt halt.

"What?" Clint said sharply. 

Jasper swallowed, but continued, "Coulson, he's pushing too many buttons."

"You've lost me, Sitwell," he said and started off across the hall again, but he was stopped by Sitwell's hand on his arm, who probably felt the muscles tense and hurriedly took his hand away. 

"It's one thing to harass me, not that I have the time for wild goose chases but he is questioning a lot of people and they are starting to get uneasy." 

There's only one part of that sentence that really hits home with Clint, "you've seen him?"

"Yes, of course, he arranged a meeting with me while I was out of town, set up some covert meeting and then turned up in that mid life crisis of a car, very discrete!" 

Barton was a bit surprised by Sitwell's tone, "why does he need to make a meeting with you a secret anyway, Sitwell, you're friends for god sake, and don't dish Lola," Clint snapped back.

Sitwell pushed his glasses up his nose in frustration, before sighing, "look all I'm saying is he needs to calm it down a bit, pushing to find Fury," and it's only now that Clint understands what Phil was after, as Sitwell continued, "demanding attention, it's not good right now."

"Why not?" Clint was no stranger to being out of the loop, he had the distinct feeling he was missing something here but between Phil and his fucking secrets and silence, now Sitwell, playing special agent man with the cryptic, he was getting seriously sick of it all. So he continued, "if you have something to say to him, tell him yourself, I haven't heard or seen him in a long while." The bitterness in his voice couldn't be disguised as he finished, "I'm still waiting on news on Skye?" 

"She is fine," Sitwell said casually.

Barton turn incredulous eyes towards Sitwell, "fine? Last time I heard she had no chance."

Sitwell just shrugged his shoulders.

Clint can't help but feel hurt, "well seems like you know more than I do and you're wasting your time coming to me."

"Don't play dumb with me Barton, I'm doing you both a favour here."

Well fuck, seems like Sitwell didn't think that Phil would be such a douche bag to not keep in touch with Clint, but hell, seems that he could! But Clint wasn't impressed by Sitwell's tone and scowled, "you're doing us a favour by threatening Phil?"

"I'm not threatening anyone, for heaven's sake, Coulson was my friend."

"Was? Interesting choice of words there." For all the crap that Phil was throwing at him or more to the point for all the isolated silence that Phil has not responded with, he still wanted to defend the bastard and he'd had his fill of Sitwell standing here like he's 'the man.' He poked the agent in the chest but without any force, "just remember where you came from Jasper, you wouldn't be here without Coulson. He might not be at the Hub of things right now but he will be back and you know what he is capable of, he could grab back anything he wanted with the snap of his fingers."

"We all know that Coulson has always been the teacher's pet, Barton, but Fury isn't around."

What the fuck, Barton thought, this wasn't right. 

Sitwell continued, "you think the rest of us would get the same kind of treatment that Coulson got, when the chips are down?" He looked at Barton, saw the glare and looked down at his feet, shuffling them awkwardly.

Clint said quietly, his voice serious, "there aren't many that would go up against, and try and stop an Asgard God, single handed," he voice menacingly finished, "are there Sitwell?"

Jasper, doesn't look up straight away, but a smile started to break out on his face, "yeah well he always was a stubborn son of bitch." He looked up sheepishly at Barton. 

Clint can't help but smile fondly, "yeah he really is."

Sitwell sighed heavily, "Look, Barton, I'm just... It's complicated right now, but Coulson, he has that plane, he has pretty much a free hand, he won't want to lose that."

"Are you saying he will?"

"Fuck, I don't know, but he's safe up there, don't underestimate that."

The words made Clint frown, but Sitwell was looking at his watch, ready to leave, "just tell him to keep under the radar," Jasper was already walking and it seemed pointless to respond that Clint wasn't likely to even get to speak to the man, because he himself was still waiting for him to fucking ring back!

 

Barton shoved his hands in his pockets as he looked around, there were people rushing all around him, he thought back to all the times he had walked in through those large sliding doors, Phil by his side as they came into work every day (when they weren't on missions of course) they would part with a smile, no public displays from them, no way. Sometimes they would meet at the end of the day but more likely they would meet outside of work for something to eat before returning to one of their apartments, they had never quite got to the stage of sharing, it was useful having two places to go anyway, they shared drawers. Phil had had a good selection of suits hanging in Clint's wardrobe and Clint had a t-shirt or two at Coulson's. Looking back they were easy days. Sure, shit happened on a regular basis they got hurt far too often, faced danger on a daily basis but at least they'd had each other and Nat, who was like a stray cat that would turn up when she was hungry, Clint never knew how she found them at which apartment, maybe she visited both, he'd never asked, just let her in when the familiar knock hit the woodwork. Phil would just greet her like she was part of the deal, maybe she was. But those days were gone, no more waking up with Phil beside him, no one to ask how his day had been, whatever Phil and him had these days, it wasn't that and didn't seem likely to get back to that any time soon. Clint in all honesty wouldn't be surprised if Coulson walked up to him one day and just called it quits. 

The really frightening thing was when Phil was away like this, Clint wasn't so sure it would be a bad thing anymore. It was different when they were together, the moment his older lover stepped into view the fire relit under Clint, but this was so hard and Clint felt like the second fiddle and he was beginning to believe enough in himself once again to know that wasn't right. Coulson was going through all kinds of stuff that seemed to slam into him, one horrible thing after the other with no recovery in between, but the way he was dealing with it, or not dealing with it more to the point, shutting himself away from the world hiding behind his job on that plane wasn't fair on Phil or himself, because damn it, he wanted to help. It was the first time in their life together that Clint had a chance to pay back. Phil gave him back his life when he took him under his wing all those years ago and in their relationship it had pretty much been a one way street and Clint's crap constantly resurfacing to put spanners in the works, Phil was easy, never any worries beyond how much paperwork he had stacked on his desk, so when Coulson asked him if he was different now, truthfully he didn't know because the vulnerable man that asked that question was someone he had never met before, but he knew that he desperately want to help him.

The old Coulson would never really let himself be susceptible to any kind of weakness, if thing started to bother him he would just lock down the emotions, it wasn't that he was cold, no he was an impassioned man most of the time but when things hit he would bury his feelings deep become detached. The legend of junior agents questioning his origins wasn’t entirely rumour, Coulson was seen as the computerized brain behind the command team of Fury and Hill, their ruthlessness matched by his tactical skills. Now it was like Phil had frailties, just like the rest of them and that scared him, his heart was on his sleeve and Clint knew it wasn't fair to think it but it kind of put them on a more equal footing. Don't get him wrong, Phil had never ever made Clint feel less than equal but Barton himself always had the nagging feeling he wasn’t good enough for Phil. It's bad he knew but Coulson seemed in a odd way more of a complete person now, one that Clint really wanted to know, if he would stop hiding, he was more human with the same insecurities he had himself and had always previously felt vaguely embarrassed when they surfaced around his controlled lover. Maybe this was the opportunity for a new beginning, an even better partnership, if only he could persuade Phil of that because right now he was still a man when swamped by his emotions instead of locking them down he just had a bewildered and scared look on his face.

He didn't want to do it out of some debt, he wanted to do because he loved him, but Phil the bastard seemed to want to hide that man, and his way of doing it was by running away and ignoring him because he damn well knew that Clint was one of the few that could force him out into the open. The irony wasn't lost on Barton, only a few minutes ago he had briefly considered chucking it all in but it was clear that Coulson was unfinished business and he was in it till the end.

His hand touched the phone in his pocket, and his fingers curled around it, "hell," he muttered to himself and pulled the sleek gadget out of his pocket. Clint looked in disgust at the thing and dialled the number, knowing it was probably going to go unanswered, but nevertheless finding himself a quiet corner in something akin to hope. 

It rang, once, twice, three times and Clint's already swearing under his breath, and then the line clicks.

Barton's ranting before Phil could even get a word in edge ways, all his frustrations spilling out, "Coulson, you are such a fucking bastard, I don't know why I bother with you!"

"Hello?"

Clint almost pulled the phone away from his ear to look at the screen as if that would hold all the answers because that isn't Phil's voice.

"Hello." He replied stupidly.

"Ah, who is this?" The female voice answered. 

Clint suddenly realised who is on the other end, and embarrassingly asked, "Skye?"

"Yes?"

"It's Cl... Barton, is Coulson okay?"

“Ah, yeah, he's fine, well not fine," her voice lowered, "honestly by the looks of him pretty crap, but if you ask him, he's fine, you know?"

"Yeah , I do. Is he there?"

"Hold on a sec," Clint can hear her over the phone shout out, "AC, it's your man with the arms that are made to catch you when you fall on the phone for you, but I don't think he's terribly happy with you," Her voice comes back clear as she came back on the line, "sorry, he'll be back in a sec, he's just stepped out to, you know... Ah..."

"Take a piss?"

"That'll be the one."

"And you answered his phone?"

She sounded a little nervous as she answered, she had good reason to, Phil won't be impressed, "yeah."

"Brave! How are you, Skye?" Clint asked softly.

"I'm good, thanks, it was a bit touch and go apparently, but your man came through, just like always." Her voice holding an edge of hero worship.

Clint still pissed though, and said, "he's not really my..."

"Sure he is," her voice sounded so certain, so much more so than his did. 

There's a commotion at the other end of the line and Barton could hear a distant Phil in the background, "Skye?"

Skye lowered her voice again, but Clint was pretty sure that Phil must be in the room with her, she still said, "look he really needs to talk to someone," Clint heard a rather angry demand for the phone from Phil and a chair skidding back as if she has jumped up, Clint can almost imagine a rather domestic scene of Skye running round Phil's desk avoiding him trying to grab his phone off her. Her voice was clear as it continued, "he's not very communicative right now, he only talks through his eyes and they aren't happy," she snorted, "and getting more and more angry by the minute."

"Give me the phone," she was right, Phil sounded more than flinty.

"Okay, okay, gotta go lover boy, he is still my boss and I only got till the end of this call to find somewhere to hide and choices are limited on the bus!"

"Bye, Skye." Clint can't help the warmth in his voice.

There was a muffled grumble in the background but the phone had obviously been handed over as Clint only heard her in distance as she said something along the lines that he (Phil) needed to talk, and then Coulson's clear command, "out!" before the door slammed.

It's a disturbingly bland tone that comes over the line, "Clint?"

"I like her!" 

"I'm sure you do, she can't take orders any better than you ever could."

"You wound me, Boss."

"Hmm," there was a pause before he said, "I should have called you."

"Yes you should have," Clint's tone clear that he wasn't happy. "Skye's all right then."

"Yes... We found...I found..." There's a heavy sigh from the other end, Coulson's voice sounded detached and hollow, "a drug, they used it on me... It's..."

"Phil?"

"Alien."

"Alien? What..."

Coulson's voice chokes, "it's made from an alien."

"Shit," Barton’s brain races, "you gave it to Skye?"

"There was no choice... She wouldn't... " Phil's voice broke. 

"You... did she go through what you..." 

"No, she didn't suffer, not like..." He didn't need to finish the sentence with 'me', they both knew it.

"Is she okay now?"

"There is no sign of the drug in her system now. The whole place it was kept at was wired, went up, nothing left."

"What the hell is Fury up too?"

"I wish I knew," Phil snapped, "I can't get a hold of him."

"I know, had an odd conversation with Sitwell, seems pretty spooked by what you are up to," Clint said suddenly remembering why he had actually called.

"I asked him for Fury, he swore he didn't know where he is?" 

"Can't say I've seen him around, no flap of a leather trench coat in sight."

"Hmm."

"What you going to do now."

"Find answers, Clint, find answers, it all I've ever wanted," and for first time when he talking about himself, since the run in with Loki, his voice sounds sure and steadily determined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw Jasper!
> 
> Please leave me a comment, I don't know if you are enjoying it and it makes me nervous!


	5. If that's what you ask, I'll give you all I am.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This brings us right up to date with the latest episode 'Providence' and Captain America: TWS.
> 
> So where is Clint, anyone seen him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Beta is an ANGEL! Thank you Veriscence.

Skye stuck her head round the door and immediately spotted what she was looking for. The rest of the team were down in the kitchen-cum-dining area eating together, an uneasy and weary feeling prevailing the whole group, they smiled with politeness but remained uninterested as Agent Koenig regaled about his time as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and his time in this bunker of a base. His enthusiasm had no effect on the shell shocked agents. The only one that seemed vaguely aware and ready for the next shit storm to hit was Ward, he'd seemed pretty pumped by the whole thing, she could only put it down to him being an adrenaline junkie. Skye was finding the Simmons and Triplett tag team a bit hard to take if she were honest, Fitz seemed equally morose about them, but that wasn't surprising as Jemma seemed to have defected from science to muscle overnight and it was pretty unnerving. May ate in absolute silence and nobody tried to involve her in any conversation, it was pretty clear she wasn't interested in being social. Fitz still glanced at her furtively as if she were about to shot him at any moment, and Skye was finding it a little hard to comprehend why May had done what she had. 

Skye looked back into the small room and then down at the plate of food she had carried from the kitchen along with some cutlery. It had taken a while of exploring this vast complex to find him, and now she wondered if she should disturb him at all, but although he was sat on a sofa surrounded by papers and maps he wasn't looking at them, instead staring out across the room stuck in his own world. Skye swallowed, he looked such a lonely figure, she'd seen and relished the secret joy that had fluttered across his face when Koenig had greeted him with such worship. It was in that moment that Skye truly understood what he had lost, not just lately, those losses had and would hit hard but Skye was talking about his life before, before all this, before the bus, before their team. When he was at the right hand of Fury before it was deemed that he had to hide in the shadows, for reasons Skye really didn't comprehend. He had been at the top of his game, had immense influence in the agency and then he didn't, pushed out because it seemed they didn't quite know what to do with him, they saw him as a risk, reinforced by May and her treachery.

She sighed and stepped into the room, she was almost half way across the room before he caught sight of her, and she was pleased to see the slight smile that pulled at his lips as he watched her cross the room. She reached him and found herself smiling back as he tidied away the papers that were scattered next to him making room for her to sit down, which she quickly did as if he might change his mind. She watched as he looked surprised as she handed over the plate of food to him, he had obviously though it was for herself.

"Ah thanks," he looked at her a little quizzically.

"Got to keep your strength up, boss man."

"Hmm," he muttered as he pushed the food round the plate indifferently.

"Are you okay, AC?"

"Yes, I'm fine," he said as he gently placed the fork back on the plate, and looked up at Skye, with an apologetic smile, "just not all that hungry, sorry." He leaned forward and slid the plate onto the coffee table in front of him.

"Hey," she said as she shifted on the sofa and reached into her back pocket pulling out the phone he had lent her to talk to Ward, "I should give you back your phone."

Coulson looked down at Skye's outstretched hand, and shook his head, "keep it, I'll just grab another one."

"What if someone calls... Clint?"

"Clint won't call," he said, looking away from her.

Skye pulled a face, "Oh no, you guys haven't..."

Phil quickly looked back, "What... No, it's a new phone Skye, he won't know the number."

Way to feel stupid, Skye thought to herself, but smiled, "Duh."

She was rewarded with a larger smile, but it didn't last.

"So you've heard from him, right, since..." She questioned tentatively waving her hand about.

He sighed, "No."

She looked with concern at her boss, until he felt compelled to say, "Like I said, I had to ditch my phone, he wouldn't know how to get in touch."

"Did you try?"

"What?"

"Did you try to phone him, before you ditched your old one?"

He looked vacantly across the room, "Yes, there was no answer."

She flinched but said hopefully, "He’ll be okay."

His mouth turned up trying to be supportive, he knew that Clint and Skye had bonded over how outrageously childish they could be towards each other, and Phil had enjoyed every moment of it, almost like family, he swallowed, "He probably had to get rid of his phone, like us."

"Yeah..." she said hopefully. "When you were at the Hub did you find out where-"

"I tried to find out but best I could find was that he was sent off with a team by Sitwell," he interrupted her.

"Sitwell, that's your friend, that Jemma tased when we were at the Hub with Hands mission, right?"

Coulson's head dipped, he mouth thinned out, it was the same look he had when they had stood outside and he had broken down in front of them. She reached her hand out and gripped his arm. "AC?"

"Sitwell was HYDRA," his voice sounded so defeated.

Her eyes rolled to the ceiling, "Crap."

Coulson rubbed a tired hand over his face, he felt all out of answers and Skye's hand rubbing gently, soothingly up his arm was nearly enough to break him.

"What can we do?" She asked.

He shook his head, as her hand came down to his and squeezed. He gripped onto it like a lifeline, everything without much exception since his resurrection had been a monumental trial of purgatory but this girl that sat beside him, had shone a light into his darkness and he didn't think he would have made it without her and Clint by his side. The possibility of losing one of them now was more terrifying than ever because they were literally all he had left. He needed to think of something to find Clint. Natasha was the obvious answer but she was no more available than Fury. As of now they were all fugitives, and the whole point of running was not to be found, which meant that if Clint didn't want to be, it would be mighty difficult to catch him. Phil didn't want to even consider the thought that there was no Clint to be found anymore, but one thing was for sure he wasn't HYDRA and that a confidence that had taken a serious hit over the last few days.

She turned wide eyes towards him, "there isn't much we can do from here, is there anyone you can think of that could help find him?"

He shook his head in despair but then stopped, and a gem of an idea took root."Maybe... Maybe," he turned to her and said, "can I borrow your phone?" He asked sheepishly.

She smiled, "Sure thing, boss."

"Give me an hour, I'll see what I can rustle up."

She stood as she handed over the phone. “You know you kind of scared me back there when you stood up in front of the gun.”

Coulson twitched, “Sorry, Clint, wouldn't have been impressed either, he already thinks I court danger a little too hard.”

“He's got brains and beauty that one, he's a keeper.”

Phil smiled sadly, “You're not wrong.”

She wondered how he kept going, and said sadly, "Try and eat something, please."

He nodded his head as he watched her walk out of the room, drawing the door closed quietly behind her to give him some privacy. Phil was pretty sure the rest of the team wouldn't be searching him out though, they had made their views clear back on the Bus and even if he had been proven right without disclosing the fact that Nick was alive, they would still think he was following ghosts.

He looked at the phone in his hand and then gently put it on the table. It was Skye's phone now and he wasn’t altogether comfortable with having the number he was about to dial in the memory for her to find. He stood up, a quick stretch of the legs via the Bus was called for.

********************************************************************************

He made three attempts at calling on the brand new phone he had fished out of his safe before it was answered with a annoyed tone, "I don't know who this is and how you got this number but I'm going to hang up now and don't ..."

Coulson interrupted the tirade, "Mr Stark, please don't do that I need your help."

There was a pause on the line before Stark replied, "oh yeah, because last time I helped you, you seemed pretty pissed."

"I begged you not too as I remember," and damn the anger was still overriding in his voice and it won't help get what he needed.

"You said some pretty hurtful things last time you were here."

'Hurtful' what the fuck was Stark his mother, what man said words like hurtful, he gritted his teeth, talking to him never got any easier.

"I mostly said those things to Fury, if you remember," he didn't add that it was Barton that flew most of the bitter words in the Avengers’ faces, that wasn't going to help him with his ultimate goal, "besides I left with my brains dribbling out of my ears so I think we were even on that score," he couldn't help the irritated tone, my god this man rubbed him up the wrong way, what he'd give for him to be standing in front of him right now and a taser in Phil's hand, but deep down he had a sneaky suspicion he might grab him for a man hug instead, there were so few of them left on the good side and, playboy that he was, Phil didn't doubt the man's allegiance, so all and all it was best he wasn't near!

It was obviously a two-way street though as far as annoyance went because next thing Coulson heard was the dial tone, Stark had hung up on him! Phil looked at the phone in distress and a slow boiling annoyance, his allies were getting thinner on the ground and it wasn't just himself in the firing line now, HYDRA would take his team down too, they might not believe in him anymore but he wasn't going to allow that. "Note to self," he said out loud rather disgustedly, "ass licking is now part of the protocol."

He sat rather numbly at his desk on the Bus for a few minutes, his brain seemed to be running so slowly, he wondered if he should have eaten some of the food Skye had brought him, coffee would definitely be good right now but his body lacked the drive to get up and go back into the building and see all their faces looking up at him with a mixture of hope and pity at the pathetic figure he had become, just for second back there at the hub, with the world at his finger tips even amidst the turmoil that had befallen them, he had felt at home, like it was truly his place in the world again, at Nick's side even when he had believed Fury gone, he revelled to those running around looking to him, to tell them what to do.

He ran a hand through his thinning hair. This wasn’t getting anything done, he need to pull himself together and stop wallowing, and then the phone rang.

"Look Agent Coulson," Stark's voice rang out again, and Phil closed his eyes in relief, and then that annoyance again when Stark continued, "actually it's not," and Phil knew exactly what was coming next and feared he was going to get this more than once and it was still far to raw to just pass off. "Agent, anymore is it, what do I call you now, Agent agent?"

"Mr. Stark," Phil tried for his most patient tone, he was forced to use it far too often when speaking to this man, and even as his head screamed 'you owe me this' he said without a trace of emotion, "if you want me to thank you for..." 

Stark interrupted him, it oddly seemed that the brash man didn't want to hear those words at all but Phil would have said them, if it meant getting his help to find Clint, he would have gone down on his knees because he frankly didn't have anything left inside him to feel proud of right now, self respect had been blown away with the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D, "What do you want, Coulson?"

"I..."

"Phil?" Stark asked for the first time a hint of worry in his voice.

Coulson took a deep breath, "I have very little in the way of resources available to me right now," before he continued Stark laughed out loud down the phone.

"You're on the fucking run aren't you?"

"Essentially yes."

"Cool!"

"Mr Stark," Phil tried for patience again, "I'm trying to find Agent Barton."

"Clint? You haven't heard from him since this all went FUBAR?"

"No," Coulson said quietly.

"Shit, why didn't you say so at the start. You tried to ring him, right?"

Phil merely sighed loudly, as Stark said, "Yeah okay, I get it, compromised, new phones, etc. etc. but don't you have contingency plans for this shit?"

"Clint and I were already on plan B, Mr Stark and no we hadn't gotten around to planning for plan C."

"Do you have any Intel?"

"All I know is that Sitwell," and no his voice didn't just break roughly over the name, and he heard as Stark breathed a 'Shit' at the mention of him, "Sitwell sent him off on a mission, there wasn't anything other than that. The Hub is a mess."

"Okay, I'll get JARVIS on the case."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark, I appreciate it," Phil said honestly.

"Yeah, yeah...are you okay, safe?"

"For the time being I believe at least."

"I'm sorry about Fury, I know you and him went back..."

Phil felt awkward as he said, "Yes well we weren't on the best of terms recently."

"No...nevertheless..."

"Yes," Coulson pulled a unhappy face, relieved Stark was far away, away from the lies that Fury was forcing on him yet again, this was bound to bite him in the bum in the future but he couldn't say anything.

"You and me, we haven't been on the best of terms either," Stark said tentatively.

It was time to get back on a even ground with Stark so he said snippily, "you and me? We don't have a relationship, Stark, you find me a boring, bland anally retentive paper pusher, whereas I find you a theatrically irritating show off, Mr Stark."

Stark snorted with laughter, "but you like me, right?"

"Of course, Mr. Stark."

"Good cause the feelings mutual but if you repeat that, I will set Pepper on you with threats of girly shopping."

"I actually rather like shopping."

"I bet you do, you're some kind of freak of nature, Agent," Stark paused a moment before speaking again, "well, I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

"Thank you," Coulson repeated.

"Yeah," Stark said before the line went dead for the second time.

Coulson sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, it was the best he could do right now, and he desperately needed something to go right for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could get down on my knee's for comments!


	6. I bleed when I fall down.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where Clint was.

Clint couldn't fucking believe Sitwell was sending him on this ridiculous mission, it wasn't much more than a training exercise and to make it worse he had been sent with a bunch of wet behind the ears junior agents, Barton had picked his targets off pathetically quickly and now he found himself with a stupid amount of time hanging about with a jittery bunch of beginners in some back alley in a unexciting and classified mission wise, American city. He knew they all had to start somewhere but not one of them had a sense of humour and were ludicrously nervous even now with the mission over and done with, all bar the extraction that was damn well delayed according to a short and acrid conversation with base. 

The distance he had had to travel to hold these agents hands, (he really hated travelling in vans) and take out marks that had pretty much stood around with bulls eyes on their chests, it all added up to one extremely pissed off Clint Barton. Sitwell was going to suffer for this.

He huffed his breath out loud once again, his irritation clear, and watched the agents around him send each other scared looks, Clint was pretty sure if he clapped his hands together some of them might wet themselves! S.H.I.E.L.D.'s standards seemed to have hit rock bottom with this lot and had he mentioned he really didn't want to be here?

He wanted to be with Phil, his former handler had told him he was going after the so called clairvoyant, he'd been impressed when Phil had told him how he had got some of their top operatives helping, Blake was solid if dower, Hand was... frankly she was as scary as Natasha, Sitwell reliable, and Garrett. Actually, Clint had never met the guy but Phil had good words for him, pretty much came up through the ranks with the guy, it seemed that Coulson had finally started to except help and not put his neck on the line needlessly. Oh Clint knew that Phil would always be in the thick of it, he just wouldn't send agents in anywhere he wouldn't go himself, he wasn't that type of leader. He led by example.

Clint pulled out his phone and wondered if he should pass his time sending explicit texts to Phil, but Coulson could very well be out on a mission and that would be less than professional, and more to the point might distract him from something important. The next choice was Natasha but she too was off somewhere playing with Steve Rogers, and fuck she got to play footsie with Captain America and he had to nanny a bunch of S.H.I.E.L.D virgins! That left Stark or Banner, Bruce pretty much ignored his phone and who would willingly phone Stark up to pass the day! He was about to shove the thing back in his pocket when the ping of several text messages reverberated round the little group. All six of the baby agents took out their phones and looked down at them. Clint's was already in his hand but it's silent, he looked down at it puzzled, well, that about rounded this trip off, he's the man in charge and seemed like he was also the last one to be informed of shit! He looked back up at the assembled team, they have all stood up, as they read their messages. 

"What going on?" Barton grumbled.

One of the wet behind the ears, seriously Clint can't be expected to remember all six of their names, can he? Anyway one of them the tall lanky one, shoved his phone out in front of him, for Clint to read. Clint had to work hard not to roll his eyes and swear a storm down at the guy or better yet growl, cause his eye sight is good but not that fucking good, he pulled his ass off the upturned crate he had made his own and stalked over to the guy, who showed no inkling to move his own legs over to Clint, man these guys have no respect!

He had to dip his head to read the fucking message as the guy held the phone out at chest height an arms length away. Peering at the tiny writing he frowned at the single word on the screen.

#Barton.

The named man straightened and looked up at phone man, weird, 'what the fuck,' it's then that he felt the air disturb from behind him, because, hell yes, he is that good to feel air round his body and know when something is coming, plus he could hear the whoosh of an object heading straight for him, his reflexes could nothing but duck and bring his arm up in defence, hoping and praying it wasn’t a sword coming at him because it would probably cut his fucking arm off but that was still preferable to his head bouncing down the street, ha ha bonk bonk! 

The object as it turned out was nothing more than a hastily found plank of wood, but of the solid, ouch, thick variety. It hit his hand with a sickening crunch and Clint instantly knew his wrist was broken as it snapped back. The instantly numbed fingers couldn't hold his phone still clutched within, sending it flying across the small alleyway to smash into the brick wall. Nevertheless, Clint was straightening and reaching even as the blow hit, his other arm snaking up to grab at the plank before it's wielded again, shoving forwards sending the man holding it backward and forcing him to let go to maintain his upright posture. The plank was swinging as Clint spun on the spot as another agent stepped forward and straight into the sideways momentum of the plank, he was out cold before he hits the ground. Moron, Clint thought, Phil would be mortified that S.H.I.E.L.D's resources were being spent training these idiots. Not that Barton was going to complain about it right now because he was literally fighting with one hand behind his back, and there were still five of them, at close quarters, which was good otherwise they would probably just shot him, mind you with this lot, there was a good probability they would shoot each other before hitting him! 

They seemed to be engage a brain cell or two as they came at him two at a time, Clint instantly dropped and pivoted on one knee, straightening out the other leg while swinging the plank at the same time, (now that multitasking boys), as both leg and plank took out the two agents, one as his legs are taken out from under him and the other as the solid, ouch, thick plank hits a knee with a sickening crunch and that has got to hurt, the woman staggered back howling before falling down grabbing at her knee cap. 

Over confidence, over confidence, it littered all his early reports as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, most of them written by one Phil Coulson, that was prior, of course, to the said over confidence leading Barton to ask his frankly speechless handler out on a date for the first time. So over confidence wasn't always an evil, although as a boot hit the side of his head snapping it to the side, muscles straining, it didn't feel anywhere as good as when Coulson had surprisingly said yes. The kick sent Clint sideways; he gave a half yelp as his knee tweaked at the sudden change of direction. But hey, he was almost impressed by one of these geeks getting a shot in even as in the next second he was disappointed that the agent in question had managed to leave their leg out there swinging sloppy, more than high enough for Clint to grab on his way down and pull with all his might, sending 'Mister I kicked him in the head and then gawked stupidly instead of following it up', crashing to the floor opposite him even as he landed there himself. He still had the leg in his hand though and Clint used the agents' momentum to kick out and send his boot straight up and agonisingly into the man's crotch, give him his due, he didn't scream just folded in on himself with a whimper, even making Clint wince in sympathy! 

Time to take stock, one unconscious on the ground, one busted knee, one bruised balls, and one trying to scrambling back up to their feet but unfortunately for that one he's within Hawkeye's grasp, so Barton reached out and pulled on a leg sending the agent crashing again this time, Clint watched in satisfaction as the back of the agents head bounced off the ground, hard! That left two, who looked pretty much shit scared but not backing off and fuck that's when one of them decided to reach for his gun, but Hawkeye is, after all, the greatest marksman in the world and that's not just with a bow and arrow, the plank hits square on the guys nose with a wet splat, just like in a comic book! He was out for the count and the gun clattered to the floor miraculously close enough for Clint to reach out and pick it up.

One left and this one was actually paying back S.H.I.E.L.D's training by backing off, not that Clint blamed him, looking around him, as he stood up to his tallest, a group of, okay not that cracked up group of agents writhing round on the floor, and Barton has a fucking broken wrist and a gun in his hand. 

"Who sent that message?" Clint rasped out, pointing the gun at the lone agent standing. 

The guy shook his head, taking a step back.

Barton lowered the gun, a shot rang out and the standing agent nearly screamed, as the bullet hit the ground at his feet.

"I'll ask once more, then it's your legs."

"Sitwell," the agent stammered.

That rocked Hawkeye, he frowned, "Sitwell, no fucking way, what the hell is going on?"

The agent had the audacity to fucking smile, "HYDRA, is going on, right now it's taking command of your precious S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury is already dead, soon the old guard will all be gone, Hail HYDRA,” and he actually fucking saluted!

The gun rang out again and the HYDRA agent, fell forward as this knee cap blew out, bellowing as he went, Barton grinned viciously, "not so fucking funny now is it, hail fucking HYDRA?"

He was wasting too much time with this though, this lot wouldn't be on their knees much longer, he picked up his gear quickly, rapidly kicked one of the rousing agents in the head, another one got the butt of his gun, he searched through ones' pockets and fished out their phone, his was a liability and probably smashed beyond repair but this one might give him some information before he ditched it. 

He ran off down the alleyway, leaving a bunch of groaning and crying agents of HYDRA, well at least their incompetency couldn't be blamed on S.H.I.E.L.D anymore, small mercies! Whatever was going on he needed to be gone and fast. 

He ran, for well over an hour, his intention of course, to thoroughly lose himself in the city. Hopefully lost enough that he could sit down somewhere and get his thoughts in gear. He had stopped pretty quickly after he fled, he looked at the stolen phone, and confirmed the message had been sent from Sitwell's phone, crap! He wasn't quite prepared to acknowledge that Sitwell was truly compromised, but signs weren't good, even if you considered the oddity of Sitwell being the one that sent him out here, with a team that was wilfully short of skill to take out their target, let alone an Avenger, it was all rather puzzling. Lack of trust was something Barton could work with though, he had most of his life. He could fend for himself without problem, trying to find out who played for which team could be more than a problem, and just how much danger they were all in right now was a mystery. HYDRA in control of S.H.I.E.L.D was laughable wasn't it? 

The phone had ground to dust satisfyingly under his boot, the S.H.I.E.L.D issued bag that contained his bow case (thankfully his own) arrows (thankfully Stark's) and a few clothes mostly his own but there was a t-shirt of Phil's brought along for luck (don't say anything, he was still alive so that counted as luck in his book). Anything that had a S.H.I.E.L.D logo on was ditched, which meant pretty much everything he was wearing, he had learnt years ago to have a change of clothes (civilian) with him where ever he went, you never knew when a new look would be needed. He was a little reluctant to throw the gun, a) because of safety, and b) cause it was a bloody useful bit of kit but anything from the company could well be bugged or have trackers implanted. So he removed the bullets and tossed them down the drain, he wiped the gun as clean as he could and wrapped it up in the bag before sticking it a bin outside the local precinct as he passed by. 

Then he was running again.

Thank the gods that he was on home turf even if it was on the other side of the country to where he needed to be to find answers in. It was easy enough to travel across land anonymously, travelling over borders not so much, anything faster, transport wise was out of question until he knew exactly what was going on, and he was going to have to stop and set his wrist before he went much further, that image didn't appeal much either, plus his overriding need was to find out if Phil was caught up in any of this. He needed a phone, but it might already be too late, If S.H.I.E.L.D was truly under attack, then Coulson as the very embodiment of the organisation was at risk, more so if Fury was indeed dead, that only left Hill and his lover as the next significant targets that represented S.H.I.E.L.D. Clint thought back to the odd conversation he had had with Sitwell in the hall of HQ a week ago, what had he said? 'Phil was safe in the air,' something along those lines, which only forced Clint on quicker, it now sounded like a clear warning of things to come!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what to do now :)


	7. I crash and I break down.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson is still looking for Clint, will Stark have news?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the episode Nothing Personal, with the obvious exception of Stark knowing!
> 
> Thanks to my beta, without her I would probably be a laughing stock.

"Agent agent, guess who?"

"Mr. Stark," Coulson said trying not to add any hope in his voice that the man might have news of Clint.

"You're just no fun Coulson, there are any number of awesome answers to that question, and you just say, Mister Stark, really couldn't you do better?"

"Don't tempt me," Phil muttered. 

"See that's so much better, I like you all snarky, it suits your bland secret agent man persona."

"Did you have news, Stark?" Coulson asked his voice already getting tense and he wondered whether his patience would hold for the entire conversation, it seemed unlikely, he knew he was pretty near the edge, when the idea of going to bed, pulling up the covers and never coming out again seemed like the best idea he had in days, it was bad. Perhaps he could persuade Fitz to bring him sugary confections everyday and see how long he could last on sugar alone. "I'm thinking this isn't a social call."

"Ah, yes all business Agent." 

"Have you found him?" Phil couldn't quite stop the note of hope in his voice.

Stark paused, and Coulson could actually imagine the grimace on his face from the other end of the line, that pause said more than all Starks boisterous talk. 

"Ah, well not exactly, more information really on where he was." 

"Okay, talk to me." 

"You know he was on a mission."

"Yes."

"Sitwell sent him off to San Diego. From what I gather it was a simple seek and dispatch."

Phil frowned, "Why was Clint sent then? That makes no sense, it's way below his abilities. Unless..." Phil swallowed, "he was targeted himself." 

"Hmn, could be," Stark said seriously. "The thing is that the team he was sent with seems to have been a bunch of junior agents. Not likely to be able to take Barton out."

"Names?"

Stark rattled of a bunch of names that frankly didn't mean anything to Coulson, true he had been out of the loop but it certainly pointed to new agents, which had good points and bad, good points they were likely to be inexperienced and even a bunch of them were an unlikely threat to Hawkeye, bad point as things stood it seem likely they were brought in by HYDRA. 

"Okay, so that sounds hopeful, although for all we know they could have sent another team just to take him out." Phil thought out loud, Sitwell was more than well aware of Clint's skills. It was odd for him to send him out like that, the only other option was that Sitwell wanted him to survive, and that made him feel things he really didn't have the time for. 

"Right... So you know him best, if he got away, what would he do?"

Coulson didn't want to hear the 'if' in Stark's sentence, but he answered after giving it some thought, "He would lay low, work his way back, he has aliases, he would use them as long as he had some access to his bow."

"Huh?" stark sounded puzzled.

"He has a special compartment built into his bow, it holds a few essentials shall we say." Coulson couldn't help a small smile as he thought about Clint's resourcefulness.

"Clever bastard," Stark laughed. "Look Coulson, S.H.I.E.L.D is pretty much finished from what I can see, you are welcome here you know."

"No."

"Come on, Coulson, don't be like that, we should talk." 

"No."

"Coulson, we have been through..."

"No. Look Mr Stark," Phil sighed, "Don't take this the wrong way, I appreciate all that you are doing right now, but to be honest I'm still finding it difficult not to see you as my torturer."

"Fuck, Coulson," Stark's voice caught as he breathed heavily.

"I'm sorry, it's my problem, I'll get over it," Phil said, feeling the need to cushion the words.

"Yeah, okay," Stark still sounded slightly winded, "my offer stands though, you know, if you ever need..."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"Right, well, uh, so I'll carry on looking, sorry it couldn't be more, but I won't give up, we love him too you know, he's one of us."

Phil looked down, as tears filled his eyes, it was something Clint had looked for for all of his life, to be accepted, and appreciated, sure he had been at S.H.I.E.L.D but he was a small cog in a big wheel, it wasn't personal like the Avengers, a small group of people that stuck together and as a tear escaped down Phil's face he prayed Clint was alive for him to tell.

"Goodbye, Mr. Stark."

"Yeah back at you."

Phil looked at the phone in his hand for a few seconds. He had walked away from the pool area when he had seen who was phoning, and now he was standing at the front of the motel. He was glad of the peace, he leaned tiredly against the veranda post, it was a relief to take a few moments on his own, without the youngsters, the youngsters that looked to him to make everything right again, especially now, without May and in the light of Ward betrayal. He took a shuddering breath because you knew that was something he couldn't do. Treading water was the best they could achieve right now and that seemed almost too hard. Maria had made that much clear. He couldn't give up though, he just couldn't, but if Clint were dead, then he only had one big responsibility left, and that was not to let the others in his team go down when he inevitably did. He pushed off the post with effort and made his way slowly back to them, he needed more chocolate, he knew it was too generous to give half of it away last time!

But he still did the same again, he came back to find everybody just as he had left them. He sat back down at the little table as Skye grabbed the other half of his chocolate like she hadn't eaten in a week.

He watched as Skye sucked the chocolate off her fingers, making sure every last bit was consumed, it was almost obscene, and had Coulson smiling with affection. 

"You've done it again you know, he'll be pissed?" Skye mumbled round the last of the chocolate.

"What?"

"Clint, he going to be mad as hell when he hears you came after me on your own."

"Ah," Phil smiled, "but to be fair, I didn't know you had Deathlock on board."

"Ah," she smirked back, "but would that have stopped you, if you had known?"

Coulson raised his brows, but didn't answer. Which only made Skye laugh at him. It drew out another shy smile from the man. 

"You should have brought someone up with you, AC."

"We are little short on personnel right now," he said with a wince.

Skye looked unhappily at the others by the pool, "Yeah, but you could have taken Tripplett."

"Mmn, maybe," he's gaze was on the others too.

"But you don't trust him?" Skye raised her eyebrows in question.

"What?," he turned his attention towards her again, "no it's... It's not that I don't trust him, it's more..." He looked away in thought.

"You don't know him?"

He nodded he head before looking down at the empty chocolate wrapper in his hands.

She sobered as she said, "Have you heard anything?"

"No," he sighed looking away, "nothing concrete yet." 

"Oh," she said disappointedly.

"I'm sure Stark will find him."

"Stark," she shrieked, before she lowered her voice as she glanced over at FitzSimmons. "Tony Stark, you asked Tony Stark for help?" She said, and Phil wondered if she could have said the name anymore times in a conversation to make him feel bad. 

"He was the best option," he grimaced.

"Tony Stark?"

"Yes Skye," he sighed, "Tony Stark. Look he has more resources than the rest of what's left of S.H.I.E.L.D put together, plus Barton, he is an Avenger, Stark technically should be told that his team mate is missing."

"Mmn," she mumbled, "still, Tony Stark!"

"Skye!" He started to sound a little annoyed as she looked back at him. He hissed out, "Who the hell else do you think I could go to, my choices are pretty limited."

Skye looked at him, he looked wrecked if Skye were honest, his tie was about as far from around his collar as she had ever seen it and the suit was definitely of the rumpled variety. 

"Sorry," she said quietly, "I'm sure he'll find him for you."

"Yeah," Coulson said distractedly, he sat forward and finished, "I'm going to hit the sack, good night Skye."

"Night, sir," she said back and watched as he wearily walked away sending FitzSimmon's a quick wave before moving to his room.


	8. Your words in my head, knives in my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The writings on the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta Veriscence as always you are the best and I wouldn't have the confidence to do it without you.

The playground was vast and it had any number of little recreational areas. Which is why it took May a while to track him down but when she found Coulson he was sitting on his own with a cup of coffee in his hand staring at nothing, she was absolutely sure that was a far cry from what his brain was doing. He had looked up as she came in, she silently inquired if he would mind her sitting down with single look and a raise of the mug she had in her hand. He answered back by patting the couch. They sat for over ten minutes before either spoke. Then Coulson smiled and turned his head towards her, "You've stopped worrying about me."

She lifted one brow, but didn't say anything. "I can tell," he continued with that little trade mark Coulson smile, "because you're not talking." 

"I'm not talking because you are," she turned up the corner of her mouth up which was a broad smile to the rest of the population.

The light danced in Coulson's eyes as they shared the moment. 

"So you have your answers from Fury, what now?" Melinda queried, looking into her now empty cup and standing back up.  
...

"Hmmm," Coulson was distant again, not really concentrating on what May was saying

"Coulson, what now?"

He looked over at her, his eyes panicked for a second, "I..." He shrugged his shoulders slightly. He watched as she came over and laid a hand on his arm. He looked down at the hand. "Where do I start?" He asked her seriously.

She shook her head once, controlled in its movement, "You heard Fury, slowly." 

He nodded, "This place, it's a start right?"

She looked around as if seeing it for the first time. "It's a start."

He smiled, he was grateful to have her back for sure but he wasn't ready to tell her the madness he had woken to this morning, far too early. His feet were covered in plaster dust and the fingers of his right hand raw with blisters, as he looked down at them from his bed that morning he had no idea where they had come from. He had suited up, because that was what he did. It didn't take long to find the wall, not exactly great detective work to follow the trail of dust that swirled across the floor sporadically as he followed it. He had stood mesmerised in front of the wall scared to death, because he knew he had created it, he could feel it through his chafed digits. But he had no idea what it was or what it meant. His eyes had turned and settle on the glass that Garrett had scratched into, had he finally lost his mind, like Garrett, spiralling down the same road to madness. He had picked up the chisel that still sat on the floor by the wall, felt the wooden, blooded handle press into the sensitive areas of skin. He had looked back up but there was nothing, no urge to create, no understanding of what it meant, just foreboding and no, he wasn't ready to share that.

He had snapped a quick picture of it on his phone. Then he had gone to the store room and found a broom, and swept up every flake of plaster and dust. Used the early morning quiet to move boxes and shelves over to the wall to hide, well disguise some of it at least because the symbols covered the whole wall. He had gone back to his room and showered vigorously, washing the dust out of his hair and hands. Rubbing and rubbing at the soles of his feet until they flushed red. He had slid down the shower wall and sat on the floor as the water pounded on his head and body. Numbed to a terrifying point. Somewhere along the line of endless betrayal, death and destruction in the last few weeks he had managed to forget or at least compartmentalise that deep seated feeling he was different, but as the water turned cold and his body had covered in goose bumps and shivered slightly it had come back to him with vengeance.  
Phil had pulled himself up the wall eventual and switched off the water. He had found himself a new suit and had stuffed the old one covered in fine white particulars at the back of the cupboard. He would have to deal with that later.  
...

Phil watched as Melinda made moves to leave. His mind tumbling over too many thoughts.

They needed to stay focused, he needed to stay focused. They had work to do, good work to be been, work that need to be rebuilt and now he was the catalyst, he had no time to ponder the universe.

This base unlike Province had other shield agents in, not just Eric, Billy whatever his name was. It was basically an emergency Hub, on a much smaller scale. So Coulson needed to get a grasp of exactly what he had at his disposal and who.

But he also had something else he needed to do. For all the work that he felt heaping onto his shoulders he burned to find out what had happened to Clint. If it was bad news so be it, but he needed to know. What was another loss in the big scheme of things? He was too hollow to feel anything emotional flow through his veins at the thought. 

And that was the biggest lie of all. 

He was simply scared to open that door. Because an entirely different madness lay that way. The insanity of emptiness, because if Clint was dead then he was nothing more than a dead man walking, and well, he was that already. Without the spirit that was so much part of Clint, there was little or no point to his life, sure Coulson had the heart but without the spirit the drive was missing.

"New York," he said suddenly as Melinda made a move to leave.

"What?"

"I need to get to New York?"

"That won't be easy."

"But can you do it?" He raised his brow at her, a quirky smile on his face.

"Of course?" 

"Good I want to leave tonight, probably coming back tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, that quick?"

"I just need to talk to someone."

"Clint?"

He turned his head sharply towards her. Of course she didn't know, they hadn't exactly been communicating at the time that Clint's disappearance had come to light.

"No. He..." He looked down at his feet.

"Phil? Is he okay?"

Phil looked up, his hand twitched from where it lay on his knee. "Missing."

May's lips thinned out and she looked away. "Damn."

"Stark, I asked him to look into it, that's why I want to go to New York."

"Stark?" she looked surprised. 

Phil shrugged his shoulders.

"Okay I'll get everything sorted and let you know when we are ready to leave."

"Thanks, May." He focused his eyes on her and said sincerely, "For everything."

She stared back for while then simply nodded and walked away.

Phil looked down at his sore hand, Band-Aids on one of his fingers and his thumb. He fisted the hand before using it to push himself out of the chair.  
...

Clint had been sitting watching the safe house for several hours. He needed a hole to disappear into for a few hours, he also needed to set his broken wrist again, and take a whole heap of pain killers because his arm was throbbing with every heartbeat. He also needed to eat and sleep. 

He had stood open mouthed a few days ago, in an electrical store under the pretence that he wanted to buy something and watched the news. Watched the Helicarrier smash into the centre, watched the subtitles flash across the screen mapping out the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. He watched for familiar faces but saw none, he wasn't sure if that was good or bad. He didn't buy the TV. 

Nobody had been in or out of the house, he had already done a scout round and spotted no visible cameras but he knew that meant little. But he was running short on funds and he needed some of that for a bus ticket for the last link of his trip back home. He was going to have to take a chance and sneak into the safe house and hope there were no trackers or cameras hidden inside or that there was no one looking or caring that Clint was trying to get a nights' sleep.  
...

"Agent Coulson, as I live and breath!"

"Mr. Stark," Phil smiled and stepped forward to shake the outstretched hand in front of him. 

"I didn't expect to see you in New York for some time to be honest."

"You haven't Mr. Stark."

"Haven't?" Stark looked puzzled.

"Seen me, that is." 

Stark laughed, "Ah, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, is it." Stark tapped his nose ridiculously. 

"Stark." Phil sighed.

"Talking of super secret, secret agent stuff, I got this interesting email this morning." Stark turned and wandered off to his coffee table and picked up a piece of paper before heading back and handing over the white sheet which blazed the S.H.I.E.L.D logo.

Phil frowned and looked down to read the printed email. The frown grew as he read it and he looked up a grimace on his face. "I didn't send this."

"Well of course not! Who the hell would admit to being the new Director of an organisation that doesn't exist anymore?" 

"Mr. Stark, I intend to take the job very seriously."

"Come off it Coulson, you take everything seriously, and will you PLEASE call me Tony!"

Phil held out the piece of paper for Stark to take back.

"You know Agent, at that point you are supposed to say something along the lines of 'you can call me Phil then'."

Coulson just stood in front of him, not saying anything until Stark threw up his hands and chuckled, "Congratulations by the way... Director." 

Phil ducked his head embarrassed but a small smile curving his lips.  
...

Stark watched as the smile turned upside down as he said to Coulson, "I'm sorry though I don't have any news for you." It was at that point Stark could see the strain of what the archer meant to this man standing in front of him, Tony had seen emotion cross the agent's face only a handful of times, and most of the times involved the word Barton!

"Come and sit for a moment," Tony asked. He watched as Coulson raised his head glancing at the lift, he could see the man wanting to bolt so finished, "Please." 

Phil nodded his head and followed him over to his seating area, since he couldn't fault Stark for trying. He couldn't help comparing his first few meetings with the man, where he had struggled even to get his business card across, and here he was sitting socially with the man, at his asking. 

"So tell me, Agent, you and Clinty babe..."

"I'm not answering any sexual orientation, or homoerotic questions, Mr. Stark," Coulson said patiently.

"Tony! And can I just say you are no fun what so ever. If I know you were such a hot..."

"You know Mr. Stark, there used to rumour amongst the junior agents of S.H.I.E.L.D, that I could kill with nothing more than a flick of my wrists, I couldn't possibly comment of course."

Tony watched as Coulson smiled which was more terrifying than any words but he was Tony Stark after all so he said, "Limp..."

"Stark!"

"Okay so you're not ragingly gay, just Clint gay. Nevertheless If had know before Pepper and all, I might have come to you for..."

"If you think that at any stage I would have given you the run down on the A to Z on where you stick it for an experiment in boy toys then you have seriously..." Phil interjected.

"What no, I was kind of think about you, me, candlelight." Stark waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Coulson turned his unbelieving hard stare on Stark.

A familiar voice boomed over the large room. "It would have to be over my dead body Stark and if you consider I would have already used yours as a piñata before that would happen, then that would be a no fucking way!"

Both Coulson and Stark stood with surprise at the voice.

Tony recovered quickly though, and quipped back, "What can I say Barton, Phillip here was coming on to me."

"Yeah right, the only chance of Coulson coming on to you is with a taser in his hands and an evil glint in his eyes." Clint smiled back before looking towards Phil, who still hadn't said a word and looked back wide eyed.

"Geez Barton, it's scary how well you know Agent here, he has already threatened me with some kind of wrist ninja thing," Stark laughed.

Clint turned back to Phil and looked a little concerned as the man hadn't spoken yet and queried, "Phil, you okay?"

"You're hurt," Coulson remarked and made his way over to the stubbled archer.

"They broke my wrist, and can I just ask, what the fucking fuck is going on?"

"That's a question you will have to ask the Director, Barton," Stark piped up, as Phil looked Clint over.

Barton looked across at Stark. "Fury's here?"

"No Fury's..." Phil stuck over the words slightly.

"Dead," Tony said helpfully.

"Dead?" Clint looked wide eyed back at Phil. Who winced slightly, guiltily and tilted his head.

"Phil?" Clint questioned.

"He's not dead is he?" Stark surmised. 

"I can't..."

"Oh, for fuck sake," Tony said dramatically, "you guys can't keep using 'the pretending to be dead thing', can't you come up with anything original?"

"Hey!" Phil turned to Stark, "I am the original, it's not my fault everyone copies me." Coulson rolled his eyes as he realised Stark had goaded an answer out of him.

"Now that I can relate to, you would not believe the number of people out there that dress up just like me, I mean," Stark continues on, touching his hair with his fingers, "There are people out there," he spread his arms theatrically open towards the windows, "Trying to build replica Iron Man suits in their sheds."

"Well you succeeded," Clint commented sarcastically and turned eyes back to his lover, "So the Director?" 

"You're looking at the new Director of ... You know, Coulson you could come up with a new name now, seeing as there is no S.H.I.E.L.D now, I could get my P.R team on it come up with something..."

"No!" Coulson and Barton chorused.

"Director?" Clint asked.

Phil shrugged his shoulders, "Long story."

"No shit." 

Clint turned his head away from Phil's eyes for a second and said to the bearded man, "Tony, hi, it nice to see you, can you now fuck off, please." 

Stark opened his mouth, to snap something back, but watched as the two agents stared at each other. "Yeah okay," he said instead.

Tony walked towards the lift, " I can get you a suite sorted, just ask JARVIS, okay?"

"Thank you, Mr. Stark," Phil said without taking his eyes away from Clint.

"Yeah, okay," Stark repeated, and then jibbed, "Any chance I could watch, no offence Coulson, but looking at you I'm thinking it might spice things up a bit for the pair of you, I could give a few suggestions as you're going along..."

"Fuck off!" They both echoed as Stark laughed his way to the lift.

The last thing he heard was Barton' voice as he enquired, "Are you okay, your face looks bad."

"I'm fine," Coulson answered back.

"Is that the fine where your body is as black and blue under that suit as your face is or the fine where your face is the worst of it?"

"Black and blue."

"Of course it is. God I've missed you."

Then unfortunately for Stark the doors closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess we will be free wheeling from here!
> 
> I am making a effort to use my tumblr account so do come and join me!  
> http://mitchnel38.tumblr.com


	9. I can hold the weight of the world, if that's what you need.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are new fears manifesting themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big up for my Beta!

They hadn't stayed at Starks in the end, despite the invite from by the man himself, Phil hadn't been keen on the idea. He was working through his issues with Stark and there seemed to be a new understanding of the billionaires' role in the whole 'bringing him back to life' sordid affair! But he still wasn't comfortable with staying under the same roof. Of course, it might be that the last time they had both been there the Hulk had nearly knocked him into the next state.

It had taken quite a lot of arguing in the car on Clint's part to stop Phil from driving him to the nearest hospital, but in the end Phil had examined the arm himself and been happy enough, well not happy but content that another night without being prodded and poked (of course that had lightened the mood and they had giggled in a release of long held tension) wasn't going kill him, much less so than another night of sexual frustration which was sure to cause Clint to blow his top, insert more laughter.

They had sat in the confines of the vehicle and seriously discussed the major changes that had happened in the last week, Phil had told Clint what had happened from what he knew, (idiots guide version) it ran like a B-movie, the list of agents that had fallen to HYDRA one way or the other evil (no way not him? I thought she was fucking solid?) way had staggered Clint. He'd been stunned to hear of Garrett, Ward and Sitwell, most of all. Clint had questioned the last one in particular pointing out that Sitwell should have sent him off with a more experienced team if he truly wanted him dead and the warning he had given Clint himself to keep Phil away from trouble a few weeks earlier, it was puzzling but neither were quite ready to think that Jasper had tried to help them in his own way.

They had eventually made their way to Clint's place and got down to some of that prodding and poking, careful of Clint's arm and Phil's bruises. They had fallen asleep tangled in each other and the sheets, free of troubles for a few precious hours, or so Clint had thought and hoped when his eyes started to close. 

He had awoken cold, the sheets, not really covering his naked body, and Phil no longer next to him either, which was a loss because Coulson was warm in bed, he was like a life sized hot water bottle only he grumbled, a lot, because Clint always had cold feet and his nose was always chilly when he nuzzled it in Phil's neck in the middle of the night. Clint grabbed down the side of the bed for his boxers and a tee shirt, shoving them on quickly to try and take the chill off, something with sleeves and pant legs would be better, but that would require getting out of bed, because there were none dumped on the floor right now. No one ever accuse him of tidiness, clothes were left where they had been taken off last, another complaint on the Phil List, before the whole stabbing thing, when Phil had been a more permanent fixture around his apartment the bedroom had been neatly divided, well neat on one side at least. They had agreed a long time ago that they had to put up with each other's little foibles, because, hey, it wasn't that easy living with someone that lined up their bottles in the bathroom in height order! 

He waited for Phil to come back to bed, presuming he was in the bathroom. He dozed, in between sleep and awake as you could only really do in the middle of the night or first thing in the morning. He wasn't quite sure how long he was in that state, but he had a sudden realisation that Phil still wasn't beside him. 

He wasn't unduly worried, he knew that his lover struggled a great deal with nightmares. So waking in the night wasn't unusual for him. Clint got up reluctantly and made his way to the bathroom first and relieved his bladder. He yawned tiredly as he finished, he knew from long experience that it would take a few days to really catch up with the sleep he had missed in the last week, but now the immediate danger seemed to be over he could relax and let the fatigue slowly leak out of his body.

He made his way towards the dimly lit main room, his intention to drag Phil back to bed by any means available, which was a lot, he didn't lack ego.

Clint walked through his apartment, expecting to find Phil in the main room, but the light wasn't coming from there it was coming from the kitchen, though. Clint was pretty proud of his kitchen, even though the rest of the place was pretty run down still. But he had recently forked out for new kitchen cabinets, he enjoyed cooking and so had splashed out on, maybe not a state of the art kitchen but it was modern and contemporary (well so the salesman had said) Clint had just gone for a glossy white slab finish mainly because it was easy to clean! 

He wasn't sure quite what he expected walking in but the sight before had him drawing to a dead stop in the doorway. Phil was standing completely naked facing away from him, marker pen in his hand, drawing god knows what patterns and symbols straight on his beautiful new white wall cabinets. He glanced round the room seeing that the man has pushed equipment out of the way from the surfaces to give himself more access to the doors. His kitchen table chair leaning against the wall where it appeared that Phil had used it to stand on to continue his doodles at the very top.

"What the fuck are you doing Phil," he snapped.

The man didn't respond at all, no recognition, by his body language he hadn't even heard the words.

"Phil?"

There was no answer. Clint moved across the room and stood directly behind the bare man, he stood staring up at the panels with awe for a few seconds. The perfectly straight lines and circles and diamonds, all etched in a permanent bloody marker, it was mesmerising, in a what the fuck freaky way. Phil must have been at it for hours, Clint looked down at his watch, it was nearly four, but surely Phil must have been standing here for at least three. 

He placed his hand gently on Phil arm, but there was still no sign of recognition visible in Phil's face, his hand never stopped moving. As he looked at him, the only thing that he focused on was the writing. Could he be sleep walking Clint wondered, this was still pretty bizarre even for that. Phil's arm was cold under his hand, really frigid. One thing was for sure he needed to get him back to bed. He wasn't at all sure how you were supposed to wake someone from sleep walking he vaguely thought you probably weren't meant to at all, but he tried for the obvious and went to take the pen out of Phil's hand. 

The blow was swift, he didn't see it coming, this was his lover after all, but the elbow too his face hit accurately, he wouldn't have expected otherwise from Phil Coulson. It didn't soften the blow, and as he reached up to his nose he immediately felt the wetness and as he looked at his fingers they came away red.

"Fucking hell, Phil!" He sniffed angrily. It was a wasted emotion though because he had already returned to his graffiti wall, starting on another impossible parallel straight line, connecting to three large circles followed by three elongated diamond shapes. It scared the hell out of Clint. 

He couldn't ignore the blood that flowed down his nose any longer though so he rush back off to the bathroom. He took a few moments to draw in some deep breaths staring at himself in the mirror, acutely aware of the fearful eyes that stared back. 

Clint got his nose under control, wiggled it around a little, he had been fairly happy it wasn't another broken bone to his body but the bruising around his eyes had already started to bloom. Hell, that was going to raise questions. He shoved the soiled cotton wool into the bin by the sink and took the plug out of the sink and watched the water stained with red flow away. He wasn't sure if he was rushing or stalling to get back to Phil, but that done he went into his bedroom and grabbed a clean tee shirt and a little used dressing gown from the back of the door and made his way back to his lover. 

He walked up to him with much more care this time. Phil didn't appear violent, if he just stood next to him there seemed to be no problem, he tentatively reached out a hand to touch the strange drawings, keeping an eye on the man at all times but this seemed to be acceptable as well. He placed his hand flat against the wall in a direct line of Phil's work basically blocking access to the surface to see what would happen, and fuck, Phil just drew right across his hand as if it was just part of the door! 

Clint stepped back and very carefully, placed the dressing gown across Phil's shoulder, it wouldn't do much undone like that but it was better than nothing. Then Clint stepped right away, and sat himself on floor near the door and watched the meticulously precise hand at work. 

The sun was coming up when Phil suddenly stopped, without a word he simply dropped the marker on the counter top and walked away, he still didn't acknowledge Clint as he scrambled to feet from the floor, his rear having gone rather numb. He followed the unresponsive man, keen to go where ever he went. He watched as the gown slipped from his shoulders exposing his nakedness once again as he shuffled off towards the bedroom. Clint looked on disbelievingly when he just laid back on the bed and pulled the covers over himself, eyes without a flicker of emotion before they closed and he seemly fell asleep once more.

"Well fuck," was all Clint could come up with as he watched.


	10. Be your everything.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Phil talk about Phil's nocturnal habits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to Veriscence, for keeping me on track.

"You care to tell me what the fuck is going on with you now?" Clint said the minute Coulson opened his eyes. Barton was sat on the other side of the room on one of his kitchen chairs, fully dressed and looking pissed.

Coulson ran a hand down his face trying to make himself more alert, he looked down at his watch and the time read eleven, "What the hell, why didn't you wake me? Fuck! Melinda is going to kill me, she'll be waiting to take off." He scrabbled to get out of bed and then remembered what Clint had said, "What are you talking about?"

"My brand fucking new kitchen, that's what I'm talking about." 

Phil frowned. It really was too early, even if it actually wasn't early, it was too soon from waking for him to comprehend what Clint seemed to be so annoyed about. 

"What?" He asked as he finished climbing out of the ridiculously large bed. He had told Barton when he had bought it that they would get lost in the damn thing. That had been a long time ago, a lifetime ago, the mattress was softer than it used to be, and slightly saggy in the middle and it felt more like extracting yourself from a bouncy castle these days, which really couldn't be done with any dignity.

"Go and look what you did to my kitchen," Clint grumbled. 

Phil looked across at Clint, who looked like a rather sulky schoolboy sitting all the way over there, but that analogy didn't sit too comfortably with Phil when he thought of all the things they got up to last night and the main reason why the damn mattress was so badly sprung these days.

"For fucks' sake Barton, I'm sorry if I spilt something on you precious worktop," Phil said, finding his pants, although he couldn't actually remember stepping into the room last night, but it's all a bit of a blur of teeth and testicles if he was honest. He would imagine that if Clint had done up the room as he claimed, and he should know if he had a new kitchen after all, but surely it would have caught his eye if he had gone in there. The old one had been a health hazard, he used to hope for a blindfold when entering, it had bordered on a death trap requiring a full risk assessment before even thinking of dishing up take out. 

Phil was just stepping into his pants when Clint bolted up and strutted across to Coulson, grabbed him by the neck and started dragging him out of the room.

"Hey, what the hell are you playing at Barton?" He didn't pull away though because Clint obviously had a bee in his bonnet about something, and it was easier to suffer the consequences of a mug ring on the surface because he hadn't used a coaster than argue the point. Phil could understand being territorial about your new stuff - even your old stuff come to think about it!

He got within a few meters of the kitchen and stopped. Clint tried to push him on but he dug his heels in because he could see through the doorway, he didn't want to get any closer, he had seen it before, he'd hoped and prayed it was a one off, but the patterns stared back at him mocking him with their mystery.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't think..." Phil blurted out, shaking his head eyes wide.

Clint frowns at the words, "You've done this before?" He shook the figure beside him when he got no answer, "Phil?"

"I... Yes, I..." He looked at Clint scared, his body starting to quake, his knees weakening, "I'm sorry, I'll replace anything..."

"What, no, shit, that doesn't matter," well it did but in the face of Phil's terrified face it really didn't. "What the hell is it?"

"I don't know," Phil muttered miserably.

"You don't know?"

Phil said in a hushed tone, "No, Garrett said he could see the universe but..."

"Garrett? What does he have to do with this?" Clint was getting more confused by the minute.

"It was..." Phil turned away suddenly and made a bolt for the bathroom, leaving Clint opened mouthed, a few seconds later he winced as he heard the distinct noise of someone throwing up. 

"Aw shit," Clint made his way towards the bathroom. He looked through the gap where Phil hadn't fully closed the door in his haste to get there. Phil was slumped against the wall, breathing heavily a hand gripping the top of his head. Clint turned away and headed back to the kitchen, keeping his eyes away from the strange patterns and his mind solidly on Phil, he grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with cold water and made his way back to the bathroom. He opened the door wide, he didn't want to surprise the man. 

"Hey," he waited till Phil's glassy eyes focused on him and offered him the glass. Phil took it from Clint, the tremor in his hand making the water undulate and ripple in little whirlpools. Clint watched as he took little sips of water like it was an automatic response to someone putting a glass in his hand. "You okay now?" it was a stupid question, what he should have said was 'do you feel the urge to spew anymore?' but that sounded kind of coarse and rude in the face of a pale and visibly shaking Phil.

Phil managed a nod and tried to get up which would probably have been hard enough in his state, but considering he still had a fairly full glass of water in his hand and was trying to lever himself out of the small confined area he had wedged himself into next to the wall and lavatory, it was never going to work and he slumped back uselessly. 

"Here," Clint came forward and took the glass putting it on the sink unit and then bending down to help pull Phil out of his spot. Phil's arms came up and gripped onto Clint's.

"I'm sorry," Phil muttered as he staggered up.

"Ssh, it's okay. Let's get you sitting down somewhere more comfortable." Clint guided Phil by the elbow into his main room, he watched Phil's eyes dart towards the kitchen widening again as he saw the writing screaming out against the white panels. "Come on," he said pulling Phil away from the view.

As soon as Clint got Phil sat on the couch he started talking, as if needed to get it all out before it consumed him, "It happened once before, the night after we finally took down Garrett. It was the middle of the night again, I took a chisel to a storeroom wall, a bloody big wall, Clint, I must have been at it for hours," he looked down at his fingers where the marks were still visible, "I only knew about it because I was covered in plaster dust, lead me straight to the wall. I have no memory of doing either of them," Phil said despondently.

"You were talking about Garrett earlier, what does he have to do with that?" Clint nodded his head towards his kitchen.

Phil frowned, "Garrett was... By the time we got to him in the end he was completely insane. It turns out that the same girl that kidnapped me was working with Garrett, he had freed her along with Quinn and any number of the inmates from the Fridge. Anyway she had managed to synthesise the drug that was used on me and Skye. It turned out that Garrett's big ideas pretty much revolved around keeping himself alive, no grand schemes, just a power hungry megalomaniac."

Clint snorted, "You sound terribly disappointed with his evilness."

Phil looked at him for the first time since he sat down a slight smile reaching the corners of his mouth. "Yes I'm afraid so, he turned out to be such a cliche," the smile getting wider until it dropped again.

"He said," Phil swallowed, "that he could see the universe and that I would understand that because I could as well." 

Clint shrugged, "It's just words to put you off Phil." 

"That's what I thought at the time too but... when we cleared out the bus, on one of the glass doors," his eyes turned to the kitchen, "It was etched out on the glass, the same, patterns and lines. I'm going mad Clint, the drug has finally started to affect me." 

"Woah, hold on, just because you are... Admitted doing some freaky things on my kitchen cabinets, doesn't mean you are going mad. So maybe the drug has some... side effects, but Garrett was fucked up way before he had his dose of wonder drug. Geez Phil, from what you told me he had been HYDRA for years, he got a little punch drunk on his perceived success, that's all."

Phil smiled at Clint's little speech, "I love you, you know."

"Course you do who could resist," he held out his arms in the classic strong man prose causing a bubble of laughter to spring out of Phil. "So, we can rule out you being mad, for the obvious reason not even mentioning how you are all important now. Let's face it the last Director of S.H.I.E.L.D was a mad fucker anyway, so it's not like anyone would notice."

"Stop it," Coulson laughed, "This is serious."

"You're fucking telling me, have you seen my kitch..." Clint didn't get the last word out fully though because suddenly Phil lip's were covering his mouth. "Hmm, you think that's going to shut me up?"

"I was hoping."

"You might have to try it again just to check." 

Phil's hand came up and stroked the side of Clint cheek. "Seriously, I don't even know where it's coming from. I... You need to watch me Clint, I'm going to tell May when I get back as well, just in case, I..." 

"We'll find the answers, we always do. I could ask Stark?"

"No! I don't want this to get out beyond us Clint, not yet, I've had my fill of being a lab rat," his eyes pleaded.

"Okay, so Stark would probably work out it where it came from, how about Bruce, he has no idea you are around. It could be completely anonymous." 

"Hmm, okay. If you think you can show him without it getting back to me."

Clint nodded thoughtfully, "One thing Phil, in the past you haven't been..."

"Honest?"

"I was going to say communicative, but yeah," he raised his eyebrows.

Phil sighed, "I'm trying Clint, you know I've been flying on my own for a while, not sure who I could trust," he holds his hand up as Clint started to protest. " I know I can trust you," he reached out and took his hand, "I know I can but I just got out of practice I guess." 

"Well, seems like you had good reason not to trust those around you too much."

Phil nodded his head sadly and went silent. 

Clint turned his grin on Phil again, wanting to relieve some of Phil's worry just for a little while, "Well Garrett has left us with a mighty big clue anyway."

Phil frowned wondering if he had missed something.

"He said it was something to do with the universe so that has narrowed it right down for us, shouldn't be too hard to find," Clint joked.

"You're a dick, Barton."

"Is that Special Agent Dick Barton by any chance?"

"Oh, you're special, all right, sweetheart! Actually," Phil said wistfully, "Did you know there was a novel called 'The Mystery of the Missing Formula' in the Dirk Barton bibliography?"

"Funny enough, no Sir, I didn't, I guess that's why I keep you around," he smirked at Coulson, "For all the priceless nerdy moments you bring to my life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to take a couple of weeks off this one, I need a bit of thinking time on this one and I have another story to post but I will be back I promise.


End file.
